


Miracles, etc...

by ceruleanstorm



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Baby Fic, Depression, Drama, F/M, Foster Care, Jane the Virgin au, Mental Illness, Motherhood, Murder Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Sex, asexual Carol Danvers, fertility, health class, human!Vision, immaculate conception, narration, pregnancy fic, songs at the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-05 14:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 94,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6709108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleanstorm/pseuds/ceruleanstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanda Maximoff’s life has been a set of frightening miracles: living in a war torn country as an orphan, escaping her anarchistic biological father, and surviving the American foster system with seven older foster siblings. Now 26 and working as a hotel waitress, Wanda has very distant plans for love and for a child. Unfortunately, her complicated life is about to get more complicated when a medical mix-up leaves her artificially inseminated with a stranger’s sperm. That stranger? Her boss, with an equally dark past.<br/>Now pregnant- and possibly falling in love- Wanda finds herself with only nine months to rethink her entire future.</p><p>Because the only thing more frightening than a miracle… is parenthood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> They call me Ceruleanstorm and I'm headed straight for scarlet vision hell.
> 
> I've been playing around with this idea since watching Jane the Virgin a few months ago. It's taken six months to gather the courage to write this, and I hope you enjoy it :) It's been very interesting, and fun, to put these very kickass characters in such a odd and difficult situation.
> 
> One thing before we get started though- If you have never seen Jane the Virgin (it's not necessary for this story though:D ) just to let you know there's a narrator. I desperately wanted to keep that element of the show, so everything you read in bold is actually the character of the narrator.
> 
> Without further stalling, I present to you... Miracles, Etc!

**miracle [mir-** **_uh_ ** **-k** **_uh_ ** **l] noun**

 

  1. ****an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause.****
  2. **such an effect or event manifesting or considered as a work of God.**
  3. **a wonder; marvel.**
  4. **a wonderful or surpassing example of some quality**



**_**

**Our story begins ten years ago… in a high school health class.**

“With prom coming up, I felt I should remind y’all, that if you get pregnant this Saturday night- it’s your fault. Y’all can’t just go humping random strangers and expect a miracle just because you’re the prom queen.”

“Coach Derek, didn’t the prom queen get pregnant because she was raped?” A petite, brunette spoke from the front of the room. Her thick Eastern European accent echoed on the darkened glass windows that lined the cramped classroom. “By your quarterback, no?”

**Meet Wanda Maximoff: the hero of our story.**

**It should be noted that at the age of mere sixteen, Wanda’s fears include- in no particular order:**

  * ******Her biological father**
  * ******Losing her twin brother**
  * ******Any mention of sex.**



“You want to go the office, Maximus?” the coach twisted his baseball cap, staring her down with his big bulbous eyes. Wanda gulped and shook her head. But when the man turned his back to the board, Wanda rolled her eyes.

Coach Derek continued. “That state says I’m required to teach contraceptives, but it’s not like the Pope is required to teach condoms, so I shouldn’t have to either.”

“Since when are you Catholic, Derek?” a similar Eastern European accent lounging in the desk with his feet propped up beside Wanda’s interrupted Coach Derek’s southern drawl.

**This is Wanda’s twin brother- Pietro Maximoff. His fears include:**

  * ******Losing his next race to his track rival.**
  * ******Something happening to Wanda**
  * ******Going back to Genosha (under any circumstances)**



**In that particular order.**

“I’m going to send y’all both to the office, Maximillian! And I’m going to get you kicked off the track team!” Coach Derek growled. Throwing his laser pointer on his desk, the pompous coach twisted his baseball cap once more. His flaring nostrils reminded Wanda of bulls preparing to attack a matador. She looked down at her dress and was reminded she had chosen to wear red that morning.

Pietro bolted upright. “You can’t kick me off the team, old man! The school does not go to state for your dumb handball!”

The coach’s bulbous yellow face morphed to resemble the color of Wanda’s dress. He was on the verge of spitting rage at her brother, when the telltale creak of the classroom’s door opening stopped him. Turning collectively in their desks, the rest of the class watched with bored eyes as a skinny lanky senior sulked into the room and through the rows. Wanda did not have to turn around, and sunk down in her seat so he wouldn’t see her. Even with the lights off, she was afraid of what her classmates would make of the scarlet blush creeping its way up her neck.

“Mr. Anderson, seems you were kind enough to show up today. Thirty minutes late.” sneered Coach Derek as the senior took as seat behind Wanda.

“I apologize, sir. It will not happen again.”

“That’s what you said last class, Anderson. Where were we? Right, rubbers.”

Of all her class periods, Health had to be her last one and Coach Derek was determined to fill every painstaking with his opinions about everything sex related: from accurate details about penises to inaccurate details about vaginas, from how condoms didn’t work but abstinence did. Pietro started to throw pieces of crumbled up paper at her because she stopped paying attention to him. He was bored and she was not going to give him the satisfaction.

After a riveting lecture on birth control pills, the coach moved on to showing photos of infected genitals of every shape and size.

“I am think I’m going to be sick.” Wanda whispered to her brother when Coach Derek’s next slide was of a poor man’s Herpes. But Pietro must’ve grown bored of throwing notebook paper at his twin, because he had his down and was snoring obnoxiously.

Wanda rolled her eyes again. Curse his ability to fall asleep anywhere.

“That’s what happens when you sleep with a whore.” Coach Derek pointed his keychain laser at the man in the picture. Was there not a law against teaching in this manner? “But on the bright side, this is what happens to her.”

The picture changed from Herpes to a pregnant young woman. She was stuck under the light of a neon sign that read ‘closed’ with her hands reached out like she was trying to get the attention of the people passing her by.  “Boys and girls, this is the worst STD: pregnancy. You have sex, you get pregnant, you’re stuck with a kid, your life is over!”

“I do not see how pregnancy is a disease.” The senior who had taken a seat behind Wanda spoke up. At the sound of his voice, (damn his stupid voice) she slunk into her chair some more.

Coach Derek moved to flick the lights back on. A bunch of juniors and seniors moaned at the sudden change. “Oh trust me, boy. You will one day… you will one day.”

**Ah dramatic irony, you’re a heartless bitch.**

**_**

_**To Be Continued...** _

****

 

 


	2. Episode 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten years after our introduction to Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, Wanda is working as waitress at one of Tony Stark's prestigious hotels, The Maria. She's attending school, and hanging out with her coworkers, as the The Maria lives in harmony. But there's change on the horizon, change that will effect everyone and everything, including The Maria's very mysterious new manager...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hello there.

**_Previously on Miracles, Etc:_ **

**We met the main characters of our story, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, but of course they’ll be a lot more characters, who were in high school in health class terrified of things STDS (and pregnancy) and losing races. But let’s get to the** **_real_ ** **story here.**

**_Ten years later…_ **

“Wanda! Hurry up!” There was a pounding on Wanda’s door followed by another, “W _an_ da! I’ve been waiting in the car for forever!”

On the other side of the door, Wanda Maximoff was still fumbling with the buttons of her scarlet blouse, hopping on one foot around her one room apartment in her black mini-skirt. Having missed her alarm that morning only to be woken up by a phone call from a twin brother hell bent on pestering her, she was running extremely late, not having even applied her eyeliner and had yet to find her left heel.

“I am _coming_ , Pietro!” she shouted back at the door.

_Curse Stark and his stupid dress code for waitresses- there’s the heel! Where the hell are my keys?_

The pounding at her door didn’t stop. “Not getting any younger out here, baby sister!”

“You’re 12 minutes older than me!” yelled Wanda, reverting back to their native tongue Sokovian. She whipped open the door to find Pietro leaning against her doorframe frame still wearing a pair of shades and his navy blue windbreaker. He smelled like gym socks and rancid sweat, like always, as he had just been out running.

“You ready now?”

“Help me find my keys, asshole.”

Pietro waltzed into the room, greeting her black cat Salem with a pat to the head, and Wanda knew he had no intention to really help her. Sending him death glares, she shoved her signature lipstick and eyeliner down her bra. She’d have to do her makeup in the car- if she ever found her damn keys.

“So how was your date last night?” he asked in their native language as Wanda tried to straighten her blouse in her vanity mirror.

“It was fine...” She responded after a minute of straightening. Was her cleavage showing enough? Her supervisors would call her out for it.

“You didn’t go, no?”

“No… I was home studying. Don't give me that look, Pietro! You know how important this semester is to me! So, I canceled. No harm done.” She turned from the mirror and held out her arms. “How do I look?”

His response was to throw his arm around her and keep it there even when Wanda reeled away from him. He really had been out running. “Like a whore.”

“That is not my fault! Blame Stark for my slutty outfit, it’s protocol for all hostesses!” she growled, getting her revenge by punching him in the shoulder.

“Ow!” he rubbed his arm. Only he didn’t take his arm away, nor his smirk. “Slutty hostesses, huh, then I see why Stark hired you- Ow! Jesus, Wanda, you look fine!”

She smiled and pinched his stubbled cheek. “You’re so sweet, Pietro. Now if you could be so kind as to help me find my keys-.”

“You mean these keys?” he asked, dangling her keys in front of her face. She yanked the keys from his grip and scoffed at his widening smirk.

"Where were they?"

"In Salem's bed." he shrugged and gestured to where the black cat was currently digging in a black shag cat pillow.

"Damn cat," muttered Wanda under her breath. "He's such a hoarder! And I don't know why I keep that bed, he just wants to sleep with me, on my head."

Pietro laughed. It was a loud booming laugh, something someone could always pick out in a crowd. "You do have a big head."

"At least mine isn't _empty._ " retorted Wanda and Pietro threw the hand that wasn't on her on his chest, feigning offense.

Wanda punched him in the shoulder again, but lead him, sweaty arm over her shoulder, out of the apartment. Pietro threw a glance back at Salem once more before Wanda was locking the door.

"You know, one time I found this guy’s wallet in Salem's bed. I had to call him to give it back."

"Stupid cat."

The first few minutes of the car ride were spent in silence between the twins. Pietro's small 1997 Camaro, a reassembled graduation gift from their foster father, smelled of his cologne and sweat, and he was always trying to air out with his beloved pine air fresheners. Wanda hummed to _Childhood’s End_ blasting through her brother's speakers as she took her lipstick and eyeliner out from her bra, applying it without a mirror. She was so familiar with her routine; it had become muscle memory.

After finishing her lips, she broke the quiet. “You going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Huh?” Pietro didn't look at her.

"Something's going on with you. You're acting funny."

He snorted. "You are imagining things."

“Oh I am?” she turned in the passenger’s seat to face her brother. “When was the last time you gave me a ride to work, hmm?”

He shifted slightly under her gaze. They were stuck a stoplight in the heavy New York traffic. “What, I can’t give my twin sister a ride every once in awhile?”

“Okay, sure. But since when do you go running so late in the day? Did you finally decide that running at 5 in the morning is ungodly?” Pietro didn't respond. At her words, his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. Suddenly the traffic light became incredibly fascinating.

Wanda turned from her brother and pursed her lips. "You and Crystal are fighting again."

 _Childhood’s End_ changed into _The Hero’s Return,_ before "Fine, Wanda!" Pietro bit in Sokovian. "We are fighting, you happy?" With a violent yank, he turned the steering wheel and the sent the Camaro swerving around a left corner, and Wanda's head into the window. Then they were going 70 miles an hour instead of 45, emphasized the honking of angry drivers.

"Of course I'm not happy! I do not like it when you are upset. I do not think the Camaro likes it either." she put her hand on Pietro's shoulder (biting her lip because she had punched him in the same spot earlier), and the muscles in his arm relaxed.

He brought the Camaro back down to speed after a few seconds. Then, he took a deep breath before adding in a quiet admittance, "She threatened to kick me out."

"What? Why?” the words flew off her tongue in quick Sokovian. “And why wasn't that the first thing out of your mouth this morning on the phone?"

"It was only a threat. She never goes through with them." Pietro turned the Camaro around another corner, and Wanda caught the sight of a massive skyscraper glowing in the sunlight, Stark Towers.

“Why does she want to kick you out?” asked Wanda.

Her brother shrugged. “Something idiotic like me being too focused on work.”

“She might have a point, you know. I have not seen you in almost three weeks because of this stupid upcoming race.”

“Hey, if we don’t beat Keystone High in District next Saturday, we have no chance of even tasting state this year, and Allen will _never_ let me live it down!” he protested, breaking the car.

Wanda nodded, tapping on the dashboard with one of her rings. “Should I reserve Salem’s bed for you?” All she received in return was a pouty grunt.

“Clint says you haven’t called in a while.” Pietro chided. His bright toothy smile was back, now that he was proud of himself for changing the subject.

“I haven’t had anything to call about.” She shrugged. Pietro stuck his head out the window and yelled at a driver who was honking at him.

“Well, they’re worried. And Laura is scary when she’s worried, like micromanaging scary-”

Wanda interrupted him with a long sigh. “I know. I will call soon, I promise.”

“Why are you promising me? I am not the one you have to call.”

“Shut up, asshole.” She punched him again.

He feigned pain again, but burst into laughter. “Am I still taking you to the doctor tomorrow?”

“If you could, that’d be great. I’d rather not take the subway to the gynecologist.”

Pietro stuck out his tongue at the word gynecologist, and Wanda hit him again. “You are child! You know that?” They had pulled up to back doors of _The Maria_ , the hotel where Wanda was working, and Pietro had stopped the Camaro so she could get out.

“And somehow we are related. Now get out so I can go to work!” he laughed again.

Wanda laughed as she unbuckled her seat belt. “I am sure you’ll do fine in the race, Pietro.” she told him in Sokovian, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Am I picking you up tonight?” he yelled after her from his open window. She nodded back at him, dodging Valet boys as she made for the door. He honked the Camaro twice, and with a roar of the engine, her twin brother was off.

_

**Ah, the Maria Hotel. Right on the outskirts of New York City, right on the edge of disaster.**

“Quill! Where the hell is my name tag?”

“For the last time, Gamora, I have no idea! It’s not my fault your locker’s the freaking Bermuda Triangle!”

Wanda stood listening to the two of them argue, over Quill’s choice of ‘70s music, Amii Stewart’s cover of _Knock On Wood_ , he told them earlier proudly.  With her hip cocked on a bar stool as she tied her apron around her waist, she whispered “Get a room, you two.”

“They do better in a closet.” Another waitress, Karen, added.

Wanda had been hired as a hostess/waitress for the late Howard Stark’s prized luxury hotel, _The Maria,_ three years ago. When she had first started, the hotel had only recently been inherited by Howard Stark’s son, Tony, and was plagued with foundation cracks evident in the tile and mold in the guest’s rooms. _The Maria_ was one of many hotels part of the younger Stark’s inheritance, but the only one falling apart. Because of this, Tony Stark had instituted a full remodel of the hotel, and up until last summer, the staff of _The_ _Maria_ actively dodged construction workers and their equipment during multiple renovations. Every aspect of the hotel from the lobby desk to the open bar in the hotel’s private restaurant was modernized in a sleek obsidian, accented in reds, golds, and silvers that bled into the hotel’s high ceilings and spacious rooms.

“You had it last, moron!” Gamora, another _Maria_ hostess, was marching across dining area to the bar to lecture Peter Quill, the hotel’s longest serving bartender.

“No Gamora, I _saw_ it last! There’s a difference in those two words, Senorita!” he yelled back. Ignoring her, he turned up the volume on his vintage tape player leaning against his jar of tiny umbrellas.

 _The Maria_ was pristine and revered for its excellent architecture, rooms, and view. It was the crown jewel of Stark Industries, bringing the multi-billion dollar company illustrious awards and reputation.

But the employees of _The Maria_ told a different story. The staff joked that you only had to be easy on the eyes to be hired as a Stark employee, unless you were a dishwasher, but besides that, the job required no other skills. Receiving little to no attention from Stark himself (and when they did get a wink of it was in the form of his Human Resources department), they relied on each other to keep the place running as they had no manager overseeing the hotel during the renovations. Maintenance, budget, supplies, investors, hospitality; it all fell to the part time staff.

The past three years as a waitress had cemented _The Maria_ as a part of her life.  The crazy wild group of waitresses, waiters, cooks, dishwashers, janitors, valets, bellhops, matrons, and maids had become her friends soon after she was hired, and then a large extended family.

Gamora planted her hands on her hips, staring the redheaded bartender down. “Well then where did you _see_ it last?”

“In the Grub Closet!” he shouted. Several guests eating in the restaurant turned around to raise their eyebrows at them. Quill waved them off with the flick of a dish towel.

“Told you.” Karen smirked. Gamora spun away from the bar with the twist of her heel and marched away cursing Quill under her breath.

“Tell me when you find it, Kevin Bacon!”

“Don’t call me that, Quill!”

“Karen, can you take table eleven? Frost wants me to take her shift tonight, so I think I’m going to go on break early.” From behind Karen, a slender Mediterranean hostess came around, untying her apron.

“Of course, Elektra.” Karen gave her a smile and flicked her golden hair over her shoulder. Elektra handed her her notebook and pen, and Karen headed off for table eleven.

“Good morning, Wanda.” Elektra greeted her. She began to shovel coins and dollar bills out of her apron on to the bar top.

“You, too, Lektra. Slow morning?” she asked, nodding her toward the money.

“None of Stark’s horny investors today, so yes.” Elektra sighed and placed her hands on her chest. “Very slow morning for the girls.”

Quill chuckled from behind the bar as Elektra juggled her breasts some more. “Yeah, aren’t Viagra and Co all coming up tonight?” Elektra let her hands go and nodded. Wanda’s stomach dropped into her feet.

“Wait, what?”

“All of Stark’s investors are coming up for the big Gala tonight, remember. You know, the one we’ve been putting together for months, the one where Stark’s going to introduce the new boss of this place?” Quill lifted an eyebrow at her, and Elektra laughed when Wanda threw her head in her hands.

“Dammit! I forgot about the Gala!” she cursed under her breath and her coworkers laughed again. “Oh god, and that means I have to wear my dress, which of course, I forgot, today, of course! Ugh, maybe I can call Pietro and he can bring it up, but he does have work…”

“That’s okay, babe. You can borrow my red one, we’re about the same size. Wait, not really in height.” A voice behind Wanda spoke up, sending Wanda twirling in shock.

“Danvers! You are back!” she shouted, enveloping the recently present waitress in a hug, then let go when she noticed Carol was in full hostess uniform. “Wait, why are you back? I thought your maternity leave didn’t end until October!”

Carol brushed off Wanda’s question with a shrug. “Yeah, but it’s not like I’m actively watching the kid, and the doc said I was okay to get back on my feet after about two weeks. Hey, by the way, do think it’s bad to start doing squats a few days after you had your vagina stretched ten centimeters?”

“I still don’t get why you carried someone else’s kid for nine months, Danvers.” Quill shook his head, and Elektra nodded in agreement.

“Oh, Quill, what do you get?” Carol intoned with an eye roll.

“Boning Gamora in the closet.” Karen whispered as she walked by with a tray of drinks, just loud enough to get a chuckle out of Elektra and Wanda.

“Nothing past Algebra.” Quill was saying.

Wanda turned back to Carol. “And you are sure it’s okay if I borrow your dress?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” she waved her hand. “I can wear my black one.”

“Oh thank God, Carol, you’re a saint!”

“No problemo. So who’s this new mystery boss we’re getting tonight? I haven’t heard anything about him.”

“Neither have we. Hill wouldn’t tell us anything, not even this man’s name.” Elektra scoffed. She began to tell her about how Stark industries wanted to make the revealing of _The Maria’s_ new manager an extravagant surprise for their investors, when they were interrupted by Anna Marie, one of their youngest housekeepers, wearing a pale expression.

“What’s wrong A.M?” Quill asked her.

She fumbled with her gloves before mumbling “Um, Peter told me to come get you because Wade set the industrial oven on fire again.”

Wanda and the others jumped when Quill threw his head onto the bar in exasperation. “On purpose?” he wailed.

“Maybe…”

“Goddammit.” Quill said, peeling himself off the bar. “I gotta go find Groot then. If Gamora comes back will you tell her I’m in the kitchen and need her help.”

“Admitting you have a weakness, Peter?” sang Elektra. Wanda bit her lip to keep from laughing.

He nodded reverently and came around the obsidian bar. “Mhm, Natchios. Now if you’ll excuse me I have kitchen fires to put out, and two dish boys to hit with a fire extinguisher.”

Elektra rolled her eyes again as Quill followed Anna Maria to the kitchen. “I think that I should go as well. Does anybody else in the mood for Panera?”

Wanda and Carol declined, so Elektra left to ask Karen if she wanted food, and then to clock out.

“Since it’s slow I think I’m going to help put up decorations for the Gala tonight.” Wanda told Carol after Elektra strutted away.

“Oh. I was going to go video Quill putting out the fire and beating the shit out of the dishwashers for my snapchat story, but that sounds more practical. I’ll go round up the others.”

Carol persuaded two other waitresses, Jennifer and Jessica, to join them with the promise of baby pictures to help decorate the ballroom on the second on the second floor. They spent the rest of their shift taking turns on a rickety ladder, that probably would have broken several labor laws, adorning the ballroom of _The Maria_ with golden drapes and red paper lanterns.

“What time is it?” Wanda asked the other waitresses. Jean, Betsy, and later Karen had joined them at some unknown point in the afternoon. Standing barefoot on one of the expensive mahogany tables, (they’d add silk tablecloths later) Wanda hanging up what might have been her 50th red lantern.

Betsy answered from her own table across the room. “Uh, about 4:30.”

“Ah, shit.” Carol climbed down from the ladder. “We’ve been at this for five hours?”

“Yeah, but you have to admit that this place looks _amazing_!” Jean pointed out.

She was right. The ballroom of the hotel was already grand it its own right: it carried _The Maria_ post-renovation look with three tall walls of obsidian and a fourth of only windows that brought the room to a close. Pillars of slate broke up the setting of hundreds of tables leading to a grand stage Wanda and Carol had covered in white curtain for that night’s event. Hanging low off the ceiling were the rows of lanterns the girls had meticulously hung. The place was illuminated in a scarlet glow that reflected off the gold light of the crystal chandeliers and drapes hanging from pillar to pillar.

There had been a moment where they all were privileged to hear the imminent argument between Quill and Gamora and the two dish boys about sitting the kitchen on fire from the air vent. Carol ended up sneaking down into the kitchen and captured the argument for her snapchat story.

“That’s true, Jean. But you know what else is true?” Carol sprawled, mini skirt and all, down on the ballroom floor. Karen elegantly took a seat next to her.

“What?”

“We do not get paid enough for this.” finished Wanda.

Carol waved her hand in agreement and Jessica gave an amen. A whistle followed then, and Elektra strutted in with several bags bearing the Panera brand. She was already dressed in her black dress for the Gala.

“I’m impressed!” she remarked, twirling around to get a better view. “You girls did an excellent job, even without me.”

“Why were you gone for four hours?” Karen asked from her spot on the ground.

“Long line at Panera?” she replied with a smile, then holding up the bags. “Who wants dinner?”

**_**

**Meanwhile, 4.6 blocks away from where Wanda was working at** **_The Maria_ ** **, but half a world away…**

“You ready to go, bud? You can only stare out my windows for so long.”

“And you can only play Flo Rida for so long, yet you’ve managed to even exceed my expectations.”

“Oh come on, Vince, you said the _same thing_ about ACDC.”

**Remember that senior from the prologue? Here he is, essential to the plot ten years later…**

**Vincent J. Anderson**

  *          **New hotel manager**
  *          **Believed to be half robot (by his friends)**
  *          **Pure cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure.**



Vince had been staring out at the New York City skyline as the sun set, twisting the ring on his right hand as he tried his best to block his friend’s choices in music, before Tony had interrupted him. The songs never started out as irritating at first, but Tony had a bad habit of putting one song by one artist on repeat for several days on end.

Tonight, Vince was to appear at _The Maria_ for his first official night as the hotel’s new manager and the familiar tenseness had begun in his shoulders. Tony and his girlfriend/Co-CEO of Stark Industries, had decided it was a more extravagant occasion than it truly needed to be, and were throwing a true and honest Gala in his name. Vince knew from early on the whole event was more for show and less for recognition; he had worked various jobs in several of the Stark Hotels and this was merely a promotion. They were good friends and employers, but they were also smart enough not to pass up a chance to show off the fruits of their labors to current and future investors.

Tony eyed Vince when his ACDC comment failed, and put a hand on his shoulder “You worried about tonight?”

“I suppose.” Vince answered, hoping Tony would drop the subject.

“Don’t worry, bud.” He said patting his shoulder, “We’ve got full confidence in you.”

Vince was grateful he didn’t continue, and even more grateful when he heard the familiar sound of high heels running through the hallway. Pepper Potts, Tony’s fiancée, came through the door of Tony’s office. She was dressed in gold tonight, Vince assumed, to match the colors of _The Maria_.

“Where have you two been? Nat and Hill have been down in the car for like fifteen minutes! Ugh, Tony _please_ turn the Flo Rida off.”

Tony gave his fiancée a small shrug, but paused the music and then grabbed his tuxedo jacket from off his office chair. “We didn’t know you guys were ready!” He turned back to Vince, tossing him his own tuxedo jacket and hat. “You’ll need that to cover your shiny head, and this to cover up the atrocity that is that maroon shirt.”

Vince glanced down at his maroon button up shirt. It had been a gift, after all.

“Hey, I think the maroon likes great on him! He’s going to have all those slutty hostesses tripping all over him.” Pepper flashed him a white smile while he put on his hat.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Leave the Tin Man alone, Pepper,” laughed Tony with his signature smirk. “Anyways, the waitresses will soon discover how he doesn’t have a heart, or a-”

“Please don’t finish that sentence!” Pepper and Vince yelled together.

Tony led the way out the door, and as they ascended in the elevator Pepper asked if he was nervous.

“He said he was fine earlier.” Tony told her for him. Vince nodded, but Pepper’s eyebrows furrowed like she was still unconvinced. She did not bring it up again.

“Rhodey just texted.” She spoke to her fiancé, with her smartphone in her hands. “He’s said they’ve got a large crowd tonight. Mr. Wada, Mr. Robinson, Heinberg, Cheung, and Mr what’s his name that seems to be at everything… Oh, and the waitresses have decided to do their job tonight.”

Tony snorted. “That’s a surprise. You nervous now?”

“I am still fine, Tony.”  He assured his boss, but Tony and Pepper kept sending him pointed look on the ride over in limousine. Natasha Romanoff, a close friend of Pepper and Tony as well as a close business associate, and Maria Hill, the head of Human Resources at Stark Industries, took it upon themselves to fill the silence with the clinking of champagne glasses and talk of Natasha’s Russian ballet company. Pepper and Tony exchanged loaded glances. Then, in the blink of an eye, the driver was pulling up to broad walk of _The Maria,_ and two valets were opening the limo doors.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Maria. My name is Warren- “

The valet, who could not have been more than nineteen, was stopped by another elbowing him in the chest and whispering in his ear. He threw a look back to Tony and Pepper, who sat with their legs crossed, and reddened. “Oh, my deepest apologies Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts. Welcome back, and enjoy the Gala.” He gulped, and for an instant Vince believed he was making to leave, but the boy stayed to help the women out of the vehicle.

The ensemble of five walked through the lobby and ascended another elevator to _The Maria's_ ballroom. Vince trailed a few paces behind the others to take in the sights of _The Maria_ : the swath of important men, some of the ones Pepper had listed earlier, and their trophy wives aware of their husband’s wandering gaze, several valets hopping from one place to another, the flurry of waitresses and waiters offering hor d’oeuvres and directing couples to the elevator.

“…can’t believe you have to babysit this place. I can’t stand tourists.” Natasha Romanoff was telling him as they took their reserved seats in the front of the room. “He’s people watching again.”

Vince reentered reality. “I do not mind so much.” he responded, still keeping watch of his new staff from under the rim of his hat. They wore genuine smiles on their faces as they spoke and directed guests to their tables. Then came the waitresses appearing quickly after with bright eyes to offer glittering glasses of champagne.

“Well, well. There’s the man of the hour, hat and all. How you feeling, Vision?”

“Hello, Rhodey. I am fine, but less sure on why everyone keeps asking that.”

“We’re worried about you! You’ve been so, so… metallic! We don’t want you to faint up there!” Tony almost shouted over the DJ. “Sit down, Rhodey, we saved you a seat!”

Rhodey sat next to Natasha, swirling her glass with a faraway stare, and their waitress came to offer champagne and the specials of the night.

“So, uh Vizh, how’d you manage to pull this? I can’t even get this guy to give me a reserved parking spot!” Rhodes shouted across to him, gesturing to the expanse of the room.

“Simple business deal.” Tony explained in a loud voice, even though the booming ACDC Tony requested had been replaced by _Mendelssohn_ now that a quartet had arrived. “He gets the management position and I get his first born child.”

The table laughed together. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha lean over to Hill, who was saying something in a hushed tone.

“Well that’s all kinds of insensitive.” Hill mouthed.

Natasha shrugged with nonchalance and gave the golden liquid in her glass another swirl. “How so?”

“He’s infertile. As in, he is unable to have children.”

“I know what infertile means, Hill.” There was a split second where her expression hardened, but he blinked and it was gone. “Guess he’ll just have to give Stark a kidney.”

For the next thirty minutes, the group of seven ate and conversed. Vince added his thoughts here and there, but soon the conversation lost its pull and the tenseness in shoulders returned. His gaze wandered back to his sea of staff.

He didn’t understand why Pepper had remarked that the waitresses failed to do their job. If this was their best, then certainly their worst was not to be feared? Vince followed the waiters and waitresses as they ran from table to table with impressive speed. They traded off trays and pointed each other to tables, working like clockwork so that no raised hand or “Server!” went unnoticed.

With a silent laugh, he also noticed that the men of the night were enjoying what the waitresses’ dresses did not cover more than the meals the young women brought to the table.

“See anyone you like?” Tony leaned over and asked.

“Pardon?”

His friend gestured with the flat hand to the expanse of the ball room. “The waitresses, bud! You’ve been staring all night.”

He wanted to respond that they were all doing their job and _that_ is the reason he had been staring, but he settled with, “I suppose that I have been staring.”

“Vizsh, let me give you some advice. Stop staring, unless you want Hill all over your ass!” Rhodey told him.

Hill rolled her eyes, and Pepper kicked Rhodey under the table, and to which Rhodey yowled “What the HELL, Potts?”

“Well?” Tony gestured once more.

“Uh… the brunette, over there. She’s quite lovely.” Vince nodded in the direction of a waitress with long hazelnut hair. She’d caught his eye earlier when their waitress, a blonde young woman who introduced herself as Carol, pulled her aside to point her to another table. Then she had smiled, and in the flickering red light, Vince believed he had known her in another life.

Tony squinted his eyes through the sunglasses he was adamant on wearing indoors. “What brunette? I don’t see a brunette.”

“And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t look so hard.” interrupted Pepper, with a smile and a tiny wave of her newly ringed hand. Hill laughed and made another remark about the waitresses.

It was then that a waiter tapped Tony on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Tony gave him a nod of understanding.

“Looks like it’s time, bud. You’ll have to stare at your brunette later.” said Tony, standing.

Swiftly, Pepper kissed her fiancé on the cheek. “Good luck out there, boys.”

“Welcome, everyone!” Tony boomed into the microphone after he ascended the stairs of the white stage. There was a collective sound of shuffling as the guests and staff turned to the sound of Tony’s voice. “To The Maria, tonight. It’s been a couple of chaotic years for Stark Industries. See, we’ve always had the interests of this hotel at heart. It’s the original, and in my opinion, most beautiful business my father ever created, so that’s why Stark Industries has endeavored over the past four years to rebuild this hotel from the ground up. And now that’s it’s finished, it looks like the only thing left to fix is the staff!”

There was a round of laughter at Tony’s joke. Out of the corner of his eyes, Vince saw the brunette and Carol, each still holding up trays of drinks with one hand only, roll their eyes in sync. Tony laughed along with his guests, and after adjusting his sunglasses, he continued into the mic, his voice lower. “Politics aside, we knew that it couldn’t be just anyone who took over here, but from the beginning it was clear who we should chose to run this place. We’ve all kept you in the dark about this unveiling, but if you know anything about the history of this business, you could have guessed. And without further ado, it’s my pleasure to introduce the new the new manager of my _Maria,_ my close friend and business partner, Vincent Anderson. Come here, buddy.”

Vince stepped up to the podium, where he was prompted by a loud and tipsy Rhodes to give a speech. Tony squeezed his shoulder in reassurance, and left Vince to begin his rule.

“Hello, and good evening. It is my honor…” The words that followed dissolved into a blur. Almost as soon as he had begun to speak, he was walking back from the podium, taking in the applause.

“I’m impressed.” Tony told him with a pat on the back. He rubbed his goatee and turned for the stairs. “Usually only my speeches are that _refined._ ”

Vince stood there in the red glow for another minute; a newly crowned king taking in the sights of his kingdom. The quartet had returned to _Mendelssohn_ , the guests had returned to their conversations, and the staff, even in the wake of Tony’s comment, had returned to their jobs with the same reverent dedication. He put his hands in his pockets and descended the stairs, taking slow steps back to the table. His mind was going a mile a minute in his memories…

… “Where do you think you’re going, little Vincey? … “Please put your hands behind your back, Vincent, you have the right to remain silent.”…“Mr. Anderson, we have some bad news. We ran some tests, and unfortunately you have stage three cancer.” …

…WHAM!

“Oh my, god! I’m so sorry!”

A bang of a tray and several shattering champagne glasses broke his train of thought. A waitress had rapidly turned into him while he was too lost reliving his memories to watch where he was going.

“I’m so, so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going-” Champagne trickled into a blotch on his shirt and the waitress began to wipe it off frantically with her elbow. As she did so, he saw her for the second time in the red light- the brunette from before… the one he had unabashedly staring at.

She was speaking again, words in a sharp and foreign dialect. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her cheeks matched the room’s light. “Oh God, I’m _so_ sorry, I _swear_ this was an accident-”

“It’s quite alright, I assure you.” When he spoke, she suddenly halted her attempt blot the liquid off his shirt, and quickly lifted her face, only to hit her forehead on his chin, sending them both backward.

“Ow! Oh my god…” the brunette chastised herself and began to back away from him rapidly. Her accent was thick and sharp like Natasha’s Russian, ringing familiar bells in his head.

“It is fine, I promise-” he tried again. She bent over to retrieve her fallen tray, and as she came up, the hair in front of her face was swept back. Vince’s breath caught in his chest. “Have we… have we met?”

She froze where she stood, and Vince took her in. The red light was reflected off her chestnut hair, shadowing her high cheek bones and the soft features of her face. Her eyes were bright and green. A green Vince believed he hadn’t seen since-

“Maximoff! How’s the pasta coming? I can’t stall Mrs. Richards for much longer!” a tall waitress called out, breaking Wanda’s spell. Almost shaking her head, she begun to walk backwards again and farther and farther away from him.

“I’m sorry, again, about the spill…” Her enchanting voice was a faint whisper now. But before he could say anything more, she spun around. Then she was gone, leaving Vince cold where he stood for what seemed an eternity.

“Hey! I was wondering where you wandered off to, bud.” Tony said suddenly from behind him. “You’ve been gone for like 15 minutes- hey, are you okay? You’ve look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I think,” swallowed Vince. He did not turn to face his friend. “that I just did.”

**_**

**A couple hours earlier, in the female dressing room…**

“What the fuck, Wanda? Why are you hotter than me in my own dress?”

Wanda shrugged with an innocent smile, reapplying her lipstick in her locker mirror. “Thanks for lending me the dress, Carol. Now if only you weren’t so tall, maybe I could earn some money tonight.”

“Hey, your cleavage covers for what your thighs don’t.”

“Has anyone seen my shoes?!” Karen called out.

“Besides,” Carol continued over the pop music Betsy was playing from her phone. “Red is more your color.”

“Huddle up girls!” It was their supervisors, Ororo and Raven, strutting in through the locker room door in twin black dresses. The two women were not officially in charge of _The Maria’s_ waitresses, but they had become their matriarchs because they had been there the longest. Ororo had been a waitress since she was hotel was opened, and Raven became her second in command after nine years of service.  

All of the waitresses came and met in the center of the room, many still in bras with their dresses half zipped. “Stark brought all his investors in tonight, which means, if they hit on you, you should-”

“Punch them until they bleed?” Elektra asked, and the circle burst into laughter.

“I wish!” Raven picked up for Ororo. “Unfortunately, if we want to _keep_ our jobs, we have to be polite and that means, you can’t flip them off, -”

“Awhhh…”

“Or mace them.”

“Well, fuck.”

“But, if they get handsy, you need to come find us.” Ororo finished. A mischievous look crossed her face and she brought the huddle in closer. “We got a full crowd tonight, girls. And that means, it’s time to strengthen that lead against those boys. I want the Bernard Board to have our name on top!”

“Hell yeah!” Carol shouted throwing her fist in the air, and several girls did the same.

“Ready!” yelled Raven, and every waitress threw her hand into the huddle. Wanda laughed despite herself.

“Who run the world!?” Ororo shouted.

“GIRLS!”

The huddle disbanded then. As she was walking back to her locker, Raven pulled her aside.

“Rings, Wanda.”

“Oh, right.” She glanced down at the jewelry on her fingers. “I will take them off.”

Wanda and Carol walked with the other girls, all in mirroring red and black dresses that only came down to mid-thigh and plunged in a downward  v shape into their chests. The open backs of the dresses left nothing to the imagination.  They took the stairs out of the basement, only to be swamped by the salivating gaze of guests and hot white lights. _The Maria_ was a blaze. The party had begun.

Stark’s rich investors accompanied by their spoiled wives flooded the ballroom long before their mystery guest of honor arrived. Bellhops stood ready at the entrance. The grating sound of the valets driving expensive cars to the parking lot was drowned out by the DJ’s loud music. Soon Wanda was dizzy, and a little bit sweaty, from running from table to table to cater to the guests and their bizarre drink requests.

“Um, waitress!”

“Ma’am, this is _not_ Chardonnay!”

“We ordered ten minutes ago!”

“This is going to be reflected in your tip, sweetheart.”

“And this is not worth it.” Jean sighed into the kitchen wall. It was only the first twenty minutes of the Gala. Back in the kitchen, the two were waiting for the next round of orders. Inside the kitchen was twice as busy as the ballroom: cooks ran around like chickens with their heads cut off, waving spatulas and whisks as meals were prepared faster than they could get meals plated. Wanda had been a few inches from colliding with a firing pan when she had skidded in on her stilettos with a tray of empty plates.

“Jean bean, table three needs their check!” shouted Elektra as she entered, handing Wanda an empty tray. “Can you take the champagne and do refills? I have to talk to Logan about Mrs. Richard’s gluten free pasta.”

“Have fun.” Wanda took the tray and waved Elektra off.

Carol popped her head into the smoky kitchen suddenly. “He’s here!”

“Never mind!” yelled Elektra, turning from the dishwasher’s station. She and several waitresses rushed through the kitchen doors.

“Tell us if he’s hot!” one of their dishwashers, most likely Wade, called back.

When Wanda snuck back into the ballroom to stand by Carol, the rest of the waitresses forming a ring around the room, Tony Stark was at the podium making his usual asinine comments about his staff. His mystery guest, a shadowed figure in a hat, towered over him.

“Jackass.” Carol whispered.

Wanda readjusted her tray of drinks. “You have no idea.”

“Wanda!” a sharp whisper came from behind her and Carol. “Can you go back and get the gluten free pasta?”

“Now, Elektra?”

“Oh c’mon! _You_ really want to listen to Stark’s speech?”

“Ugh, fine!”

But it was while Wanda was walking back towards the kitchen, that Tony Stark announced his new manager.

“So without further ado, it’s my pleasure to introduce the new the new manager of my _Maria,_ my close friend and business partner, Vincent Anderson.”

Vincent Anderson…

Wanda froze where she stood. Her blood turned to ice, the dam of memories breaking and flooding her thoughts. Her feet would not move. She could not turn around to face the man who had now taken the mic. Of all the people in the world Stark could have chosen to be their new manager, _of all the people_ , it had to be Vincent Anderson.

“It is my honor to be a part of _The Maria._ This hotel represents every positive aspect of this business, and I foresee amazing things for the future of this establishment.” God, she forgotten about his voice. “My friend Tony Stark has gifted me with this position, and I hope to live up to his expectations, and the expectations of everyone who has come out tonight.”

Then the tray was slipping from her hand, and she caught it a second with a quiet Sokovian curse before it crashed into the ground. This brought her out of her stupor; suddenly her stilettos were taking her back to where Carol stood. “Vincent Anderson… Why does that name sound so familiar?” Carol whispered to herself, tapping a finger against her chin.

“Carol!”

“Hey does this guy’s name ring a bell to you? I could swear- “

“Do you remember the senior who wanted to take me to prom when we were in the eleventh grade?”

“You mean the one you were totally in love with but ditched you at the night of the dance? What about him-” Carol started to ask her but seconds later, her jaw dropped as she put the pieces together. “Are you shitting me? That’s him?”

Wanda nodded, biting her lip and fumbling with her mother’s wedding ring. The only ring she had not removed.

“Oh my God, Wanda. That’s hysterical.”

“You don’t think it will be that bad, do you?”

“Not at all.” Carol shook her head. “I think it will be painstakingly awkward.”

“Oh, God.”

Carol let out a laugh when she cursed in Sokovian. “Calm down, babe, I’m joking. I doubt he even remembers you if you weren’t even memorable to be his prom date.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She followed Carol across the ballroom. “He never did call.”

Carol gave her a confident nod. “I’m going back to do refills.”

“Okay, just give me a minute, I am going to-” she turned a little too quickly on her heels, seeing a flash of maroon milliseconds before-

WHAM!

It was _him_ . She’d crashed into _him_. Her almost high school sweetheart - and her new boss.

Wanda was appalled. Not only had she spilled champagne all over his very nice dress shirt, she continued to apologize for it. Her face must’ve have been as red as the lights that surrounded them.  To add to her intense embarrassment, she tried to back away but only hit his chin.

_God, Wanda!_

“Have… have we met?” he asked after she tried to escape again, and just like that, she was staring up into his infinite blue eyes.

In the light, she could see his almost sad, soft handsome features. Wanda’s stomach erupted into a flurry of butterflies. He held her gaze intently from under his hat with a silent intensity as she took baby steps away from him.

 _Turn around._ She forced herself back into the crowd. _It’s better if this does not play out._

With his voice echoing like drums in her mind, she wandered back into the kitchen. Carol stood at the counter near the double doors, doubled over with laughter as she had seen the whole event.

“Well he remembers you now!” she howled, clutching her stomach.

“The only thing he’ll remember is a clumsy waitress who spilled champagne over his expensive shirt.”

“Ah man, the way you two were staring! I swear it was health class all over again.”

“He does not remember me.” sighed Wanda, quickly adding “And I want to keep it that way! And do _not_ tell anyone we almost went out!”

“Almost went out with who?” Gamora and Jean had entered the kitchen, to Wanda’s misfortune.

“Wanda dated our new boss in high school!”

“ _Carol!”_

“Well almost dated him. He ditched her at prom.”

“Oh my God.”

“He didn’t ditch for another girl, did he?” Jean’s voice was full of genuine concern.

“No!” Wanda threw her hands up in defeat. “He literally disappeared off the face of the planet! I have not seen or heard from Vincent Anderson since that night!”

The three were silent, but Carol pursed her lips together to suppress her laughter. “I am going to do my job. If anyone else wants to bus tables instead of talk about this, they are welcome to help.” Wanda announced, and with another turn of her heel, she sent herself through the kitchen doors.

Carol joined her several minutes later, whistling Beyoncé. The guests were filing out and the extravagant room was growing quiet.

When Wanda bumped into chair, Carol’s whistling turned into laughter. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Nothing, just was not watching where I was going.”

“Sure. Yeah, that’s it.” Carol smirked, taking a stack of plates from her. “How ‘bout I take the big pile breaky porcelain plates if you’re not going to watch. Are you coming with us tonight?

“Where?” she asked while piling up plates. A group of drunk men was staggering by them, and whistled when they walked oh so eloquently past her and Carol.

“Ugh, men.” Carol feigned a gagging motion. “Speaking of men, Quill wanted to take us all out to some bar in Hell’s Kitchen. You up?”

Wanda frowned. “I probably shouldn’t, Carol.”

“What, you wanted to go shirt shopping for Mr. Anders-“

“Shut up!” Wanda seethed through her teeth and swung her hand at Carol’s arm. After a breath, she added, “No, I have a gynecologist appointment tomorrow.”

“With Dr. Cho?” Wanda nodded. “That’s not very far from here. When’s the appointment?”

“9.”

“That’s not too early, Maximoff. Live a little, come out with us tonight! I can finally drink again!” she intoned.

Wanda let out a laugh. “As funny as it is too see you drunk, you remember that I _do not_ drink. Besides, on top the appointment tomorrow, I still have homework to do, and Hell’s Kitchen is a long drive.”

“Okay, well,” sighed Carol. “Enjoy Dr. Cho, she’s pretty cool. She handled all my surrogacy stuff. Hey is Pietro picking you up? If not, I can give you a ride.”

Wanda had called her twin brother earlier before the party to ask this same question.

“Yeah, I think so-” Pietro said into the phone. “Lucy, quit bothering Marcos!”

“Fun day?”

“The kids aren’t getting along very well.” he huffed in Sokovian.

“Did you play sharks and minnows?” Pietro worked at their old high school as a track and cross country coach for the past three years. The semester before, the school threatened to lay him off if he didn’t pick up another class. Since they weren’t planning on raising his paycheck anymore even if he picked another class Wanda had tried to convince him to look at other schools, but then Pietro had the brilliant idea to pick up an adaptive PE program where high schoolers could work with students with special needs.

Wanda had never been more proud of her brother.

“Yes,” he replied with a sigh. “But it’s hard game for the kids in the wheelchairs, you know, and another kid tripped and now I am in trouble with his teacher.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Tell that to the kid he fell on.”

“Did you talk to Crystal yet?” the line went silent. “Pietro?”

“No.” he admitted after a minute.

Wanda sighed into the phone. “I think I will be done by ten thirty.”

“See you then.”

Only when Wanda called him at 10:45 from the parking lot of the hotel, he didn’t answer. Her phone vibrated a few seconds later.

_“at crystal’s.”_

Her fingers typed out a quick response. _“Oh. Should I get a ride?”_

_“no i can leave.”_

A few seconds later.

_“do you think you carol could drive you?”_

Wanda’s eyes could not roll far enough back in her head, and she didn't bother to send her brother a reply.

“Who’s the whore now?” she whispered to herself.

She went back inside to look for Carol, but according a valet Carol had left with a group heading for Hell’s Kitchen. She’d have to take the subway, so Wanda freed herself of her stilettos and began to make her way through the empty lobby. She was almost out the door, when there he was - again.

Vincent Anderson stood with his clique of Stark’s people. Wanda swallowed when she noticed the angry blotch on his dress shirt.

“And that’s why you don’t wear maroon to parties.” Stark’s arrogant voice echoed off the marble.

Vince laughed, and the butterflies from earlier started in Wanda’s abdomen once again, until he looked up and straight at her.

_Dammit!_

He put his hand out and was leaning away from his friends like he was about to come toward her. That was all Wanda needed to turn herself around and head for the double doors. She walked out and let the brisk warm September night air clear the anxiety from her lungs. Ten minutes later, she was on the subway headed home, and finally in the clear.

**-  
**

**Oh Wanda, you are very much** **_not_ ** **in the clear.**

Wanda had a very clear vision of what she wanted to accomplish when she got back to her apartment. After sweating through the party, she was ready to strip out of the red dress and take a much deserved bath. She estimated that by the time she got home it would be only 11:30, and her bath would take about another thirty minutes, so she’d could use the next hour to do some of her homework, and go to bed around one. That would give her at least seven hours of sleep before she had to be up and at Dr. Cho’s.

Her plan was going well once she got home. She had the bath water running and had traded her dress for her pink robe. She was filling Salem’s bowl when the pounding that had her wakeup call this morning started again.

“Wanda!” came Pietro’s muffled voice from the other side of her door.

Wanda opened it to find her twin sitting in the hallway, clutching only one of his sneakers and a duffel bag with clothing spilling out. He looked up at her in defeat.

“She kicked you out this time, didn’t she?” she asked in Sokovian.

“No.” he huffed and pushed his way past her, throwing his bag on her tiny ottoman. “ _I_ left! I couldn’t take her anymore, so I left!”

“What happened?” Wanda had thought from his last text message things had been going well. Pietro’s angry disposition told another story.

“I went over there to try to talk to her, and she gave me the same usual shit she always does!” He stood up suddenly, making a quick go for her fridge.

“Did you apologize?”

Pietro moved away from the fridge rolling his eyes, and replied in their native Sokovian. “What do you think, Wanda? I just turned up and said hey Crystal, you’re being a total bitch but hey, at least it isn’t my fault.”

“Stop that.” Wanda threw the fridge door closed on him. “You do not get to raccoon through my fridge because you can’t get along with Crystal.”

At her words, Pietro threw himself back on the ottoman. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Wanda him a fleece blanket, which he took and wrapped over himself like a young child. She took a seat next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?” He shook his head. “Okay, well, then I’m going to take a bath. There’s some leftover Pīrāgi in the freezer if you want some, but please don’t do anything rash while I’m gone.”

**But of course, he did.**

Wanda wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, or if it was really Pietro’s fault, but at some point during her bath she heard shouting coming from her living room.

“You _are kidding me_.” She cursed several times in Sokovian before limping out of her bathroom in her soaking robe. Pietro stood in the living room, face to face with his estranged girlfriend.

“So you were just going to leave me standing there? In the middle of the damn apartment? With no fucking answer?” Crystal was screaming, waving what must have been his other sneaker. Crystal was only wearing a bra and pajama bottoms, her red hair in every direction, as she screamed at Pietro.

His face was a red as her hair. “What the hell, Crystal? _You_ wanted me out!”

“You don’t just leave in the middle of a fight, bastard!”

“IS THAT WHY YOU FUCKING FOLLOWED ME ALL THE WAY HERE?”

“What the hell is going on _?!”_ Wanda screamed, finally breaking them up. Pietro and Crystal whirled around to see Wanda.

“Oh, uh, Wanda, hi, how are you?” Crystal stepped forward and Wanda saw she was holding Pietro’s other sneaker.

**Crystal Amaquelin**

  * **Pietro’s off and on girlfriend for the past three years**
  * **Man eater (when she’s not sleeping with Pietro)**



“I am fantastic.” Wanda bit back. “Just confused on why you two are choosing to have this fight in the middle of my living room.” Wanda turned to her brother and began to speak to him in Sokovian. “What’s going on?”

“ _Look, Wanda_ .” He replied, exasperated, in their language and gestured to Crystal. “ _She followed me here!_ ”

“ _Yes, that I see, but why_?”

He merely shrugged, and Wanda switched back to English at the sight of Crystal’s confused face. “Okay, if you two are so adamant on working it out right _here,_ you’re going to need to go into the hallway because I’ve had a long day and want to go to bed.”.

“But, Wanda-”

“Out!”

Back in her room, and still listening to an even angrier Pietro and Crystal now screaming at each other on the other side of the door in her hall, Wanda threw her pillow over her head and tried to get some sleep.

“No, Salem, please do not.” She grumbled as her cat sat on her pillow. “Fine. You win, you stupid cat.”

Pietro and Crystal’s voices carried through her walls, and Wanda found even music from her phone, her loud AC unit, and Salem’s snoring could not drown them out. She watched in fading hope as the numbers on her clock change into two, three. The next time she opened her eyes she expected to see 4:00, but Pietro and Crystal didn’t wake her up next time, the blaring seven-thirty alarm did.

In her living room Pietro lay face first on her worn leather couch, covered in the fleece and drooling on her pillow. He was mumbling something in between snores. He cuddled his sneakers, now reunited, like a child holding a stuffed animal. Wanda yanked the pillow out from under him and his cheek fell on the wooden post with a thud. “Wake up!” She shouted in their native tongue.

Cursing in Sokovian, he bolted upright. “What the fuck?”

“Get up.” She repeated. “You need to take me to Dr. Cho’s.”

He groaned some inaudible response, but managed to pull himself off of the couch. “I ate all the Pīrāgi.”

“What time did Crystal leave?”

“I don’t remember. Maybe four thirty.” He squinted at her before fumbling through his sneakers before pulling out his keys. Then he burst out into laughter.  “Did you forget to take your eyeliner off? Oh wait, those are just dark circles-”

“Jackass!” She yawned and threw one of his shoes at him. “You and Crystal kept me up until four! I did not get _any_ sleep!”

Pietro’s laughter continued as he attempted to put on his sneakers. Rolling her eyes, Wanda left him in the living room. She got dressed in a half daze, almost putting on the dress from the night before, but she managed to find her red leather jacket and apply some makeup to cover up her dark circles.

**Pietro and her were racing each other out the door ten minutes later (Pietro won, of course) down the apartment stairs to the Camaro. In a sense of deja vu, Pink Floyd played on the stereo as her brother drove them through New York City traffic.**

**-**

**Cho ObGyn & Fertility Clinic. 7:30 a.m.**

“Doctor’s office, how can we help you?”

Even with the sudden onset of cloudy weather and the early morning, Dr. Helen Cho’s office was tremendously busy. Her earliest appointment had finished at 6:15, and the rest of her day was booked until five that evening.

“This is what I get for taking all of Stark’s employees.” Helen whispered to herself as she walked behind the lobby desks.

“Hey Helen, can you come here for a second?” One of her nurses asked her in Korean. “I am not sure this is right.”

“Of course, Rachel. What’s going on?”

Rachel began to hand her one of the office issued iPad, the screen flickered from black to white and back to the original screen, and she took it back. “Stupid thing, it’s been doing this all day! Oh, there we go.”

“Isn’t this just a patient’s report?”

Rachel nodded, but pointed to the screen. “Yes, but three days ago, when I called to remind her, it was still scheduled as a pap smear, but it’s been rescheduled to an IUI.”

“Hmm, I don’t see what the problem is. She probably thought it was a mistake and fixed it through the website.”

Rachel sighed. “I guess. What’s so odd about it is that is says she scheduled the IUI back in March.”

“Maybe the pap smear was a mistake in the system. You know it has been malfunctioning.” Helen handed her the iPad back. “I wouldn’t think too much about it.”

Rachel frowned, and hit the iPad when the screen flickered once more. “Something is still bothering me though, all the paperwork has been filled and-”

“Dr. Cho, your 7:30 is here.” Another nurse came through the wellness door.

“I promise to talk to her about it.” She assured Rachel, still hitting the flickering iPad. “Come find me if you see anything else strange. Oh, and can you do me a favor and unfreeze the sample for me? I’m afraid I’m already running behind.”

**-**

**If you were to go to Cho ObGyn & Fertility Clinic, and walk through the halls and by room 12, you would have heard snoring. Loud snoring**

“- if that was the original intention of the appointment, Miss Maximoff?”

The door slammed shut and Wanda woke with a start. When had she fallen asleep?

She remembered Pietro dropping her off, and trying to stay awake in the waiting room before a green looking nurse who introduced herself as Rachel took her back into a small room. In a move that was rather humiliating, the nurse had her take her skirt and underwear off, lie on the table with her legs spread, and covered her with a paper sheet. Nurse Rachel then gave the usual speech about how the Doctor would be in a few minutes, but then a few minutes passed and them smell of sterilization was getting to her and Wanda’s eyelids were getting heavy...

“What? Yeah, yeah, yes.” The words fell out of her mouth as she blinked away sleep. The women, she assumed Dr. Cho, stood at the door wearing an unamused expression. She carried a silver tray and an iPad.

“Dr. Cho?” Wanda yawned. “I’m sorry, I did not get much sleep last night. My brother and his girlfriend kept me up last night.”

The doctor raised a perfect eyebrow.

“No, not like that! I promise. They were just fighting. Verbally.”

“Oh, okay.” Dr. Cho began to put on a pair of purple gloves. “So you didn’t bring anyone with you?”

Now, Wanda raised her eyebrow. “Um, no.  Why would I?”

“Most people usually do.” Dr. Cho sat on the stool opposite Wanda. From her silver tray, she picked up a long clear tube that reminded Wanda of a needle. Wanda shifted on the table. “It’s a very personal choice and can be quite emotional, but I can understand why you would choose to do it alone.”

Dr. Cho spent a few more seconds with the long clear tube before asking. “Have you been taking the drugs?”

This struck Wanda as unusual, and she bit back a smirk. Why would her gynecologist ask about her antidepressants?

“Yes, of course, but why - Oh! Okay, you’re just going to do it right now, yeah, okay!” Wanda yelped as Dr. Cho removed the tube and placed it back on the tray.

“All done, Miss Maximoff. You can put your clothes back on.” She smiled, slipping the purple gloves off.

“Really? That was, uh, quick.”

Dr. Cho nodded. “The procedure never takes long. It’s very effective that way. You’ll have your results in two weeks,”

“Two weeks?” Wanda propped herself up onto her elbows. “But I thought it was a-”

“I’m sorry, Miss Maximoff, I really have to go, I’m quite behind on schedule.”  With a sigh, Dr. Cho excused herself, taking her tray and iPad out the door.

**And just like that, Wanda’s life was now the stuff of soap operas.**

**-**

**Fifteen days later… at The Maria**

Karen’s first hint should have been the eerie feeling of _The Maria_ that day.

Because for twenty-five-year-old Karen Page, work at _The Maria_ was a safe haven. It was quiet (well, most of the time) and just big enough for her to get lost in. There was endless amount of work to distract her. There were strangers to analyze and friends that had become family. Within the halls of the grandiose hotel, Karen Page was not haunted by the ghost of the little girl from Independence, Texas who only wanted to leave the grasp of her strict Baptist parents.

“It’s slower than usual today.” Quill was saying, squinting at the empty dining floor. It was lunch rush hour, but there was only one lone ranger finishing a cup of coffee Elektra had refilled three times in the corner.

Karen nodded her agreement. She and Gamora sat in Quill’s barstool helping him clean champagne glasses listening to his choice 70s’ album that day, _Off the Wall_.

“Wish we had gone shopping with the others?” asked Gamora. Every few minutes she would eye Quill, then would quickly look back at the glass she was cleaning, pretending that she had never looked in the first place. Quill was too busy flipping martini olives in his mouth to notice.

Karen shook her head. “No, I’m enjoying the quiet.”

“Well I’m not.” Quill interrupted. “Does anybody mind if I turn this up?”

“Yes, actually. I’m sick of this song and it reminds too much of you and Rocket’s drunken attempt at karaoke.” Gamora rolled her eyes.

“When did that happen?” Karen laughed.

Gamora rolled her eyes. “Last night.”

“Well, Kevin Bacon, what do you want to listen to?”

Quill tossed another martini olives and she caught midair. Karen was impressed, as Gamora wasn’t even looking. “Don’t call me that, Peter.”

He swallowed and changed the station to some radio podcast.

“Welcome back, I’m Trish Walker. A little update on traffic: there’s been a massive wreck just outside of Hell’s Kitchen if you’re headed out today. Officials report several fatalities including that of young child. Our hearts go out to these families. Call in to Trish Talk to donate…. In case you were in the mood for some local politics, investigation into Healthy Young Dependents Rallied Association continues this week. While the governor of New York claims to have no knowledge with the nonprofit’s involvement in the drug trade, strong evidence is suggesting otherwise. His hearing will be held next Monday but today we are here with his assistant to discuss the trial. Coming up this hour on Trish Talk, I’m Trish Walker.”

Karen let out a sigh. Her chest felt heavy and certain tiredness had come over her. “Don’t you guys get depressed listening to this stuff?”

“I’ve lived through some deep shit. It takes a lot more than the governor trading drugs with some hype cult to make me upset.” Quill shrugged and opened another jar of olives.

“But if you touch his Transformers he won't talk to you for a week.” added Gamora. “It’s a great way to get him to shut up by the way.”

Karen burst into laughter after Quill leaned over the counter with a mouth full of olives insisting the toys were “hifly rafe clofetiplfes”, but quickly stopped herself when she caught sight of their boss from the corner of her eye.

“Good morning, Ms. Page, Mr. Quill, Ms. Reyes.” Mr. Anderson nodded and tipped his hat at them as he walked by.

“Heyf, Mifter A.” Quill told their boss, his cheeks resembling chipmunk’s. Gamora sent him a glare.

The three watched him walk through the dining area after addressing the three of them, taking a seat with Mr. Coffee Mug. Karen spun in her bar stool back to her friends. “Isn’t weird that he’s like, our age?”

“Really?” Gamora asked. “How old is he actually?”

Karen shrugged, but Quill picked up where she left off.

“Um, 26 or 27, I think. He’s super down to earth too, even though his family is just as rich as Stark is. I heard he had cancer a couple of years ago.” Leave it to Quill to know such minute details. “He caught me drinking the Bicardi Rum the other day and didn’t say anything. It was weird...”

“Hmm. So he seems nice. We’ll see how long that lasts.” Gamora shook her head and turned back to the glass. Quill opened his mouth full of olives to say something, but Elektra walked in with her eyebrows furrowed and her head shaking.

“Room 321 requested lunch an hour ago! Did any of you know, because the computer just _now_ registered the order?”

Gamora and Karen shook their heads, earning them a long drawn out sigh from the other. “Gamora, will you please take the order up? I’d do it, but I have to go fill Mr. Freeloader’s coffee, _again_. Kitty’s got it ready in the kitchen.”

Gamora started to get up, but Karen stopped her. “I’ll take care of it. You can finish my glasses.”

Karen made her way to the kitchen even after Gamora tried to fight her, where she said hello to Kitty and the other cooks, then took the obsidian staircase (staff were not allowed to take the elevator) to the third floor.

Her second hint should have been the quiet. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Whereas _The Maria_ halls were almost never silent, full of arguing couples and young families taking their little kids on their first vacation, and drunk tourists, her footsteps echoed off the glimmering gold walls not once interrupted by voices. She knocked on the door with three soft taps that also echoed, but received no response.

“Mr. Fisher?” she knocked again.

No reply.

“Mr. Fisher?” she tried again.

Again, no reply.

“Mr. Fisher, I brought up your lunch. Should I come back later-” Suddenly, there was the sound of a door opening many feet down the infinite hallway. Karen whipped her head around towards the sound of the door and children’s laughter, and then quickly behind her.

“It’s okay, Karen. It was just your shadow.” She tried the door again, and when there was no reply, she made the decision to use her employee badge to let her in the room. Normally, she would have turned the hell around and come back later, but there was a sinking feeling in her stomach keeping her there. The lock clicked, and she took her card out, using her hip to push the door open.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Fisher, but you ordered an hour ago…”

She saw the path of red then. Her eyes followed the trickle of what she knew could only be blood.

The trickle turned into a pool and in the center lay Mr. Fisher. His eyes were swollen and open, limbs splayed in a pool of red, next to a butcher knife covered in his own blood.

Karen's screams broke the empty silence of the third floor.

**-**

**Wait, rewind a bit to that same day, still at The Maria, but earlier.**

“Looks like Maximoff’s ready to take on the world.”

“Thanks for the pick-me-up, Danvers.” Wanda growled. She was leaning her head on one of the dining area’s pillars. It was slow for the breakfast shift, so the staff had spent most of the day lazing around. Everyone except Wanda, who had taken her heels off the second she clocked in and went straight to lean her head on the cool stone pillar.

“Well it’s pretty dead, so what do you say to blowing this popsicle stand?”

Wanda sent her a dark glare. “What?” she growled again.

“Jesus, Maximoff, you’re usually grumpy but never _this_ grumpy. I was just going to ask if you wanted to go shopping with me and Jess.”

Carol started to leave, but Wanda stopped after three steps.. “I am sorry. I’m not feeling good. I think I am going to throw up.” She lifted herself off the pillar and took a deep breath. “Where did you want to go?”

“How ‘bout Victoria’s Secret, if you’re up for it?”

“Really? Victoria’s Secret? You want to go bra shopping right now?” asked Wanda. The edge in her voice was back.

“Fine, don’t come. I was totally gonna pay, too!” Carol teased.

“Okay, okay, I am sorry. Just let me go to the bathroom first.”

Jen, Jess, and about every party pooper waitress said no to shopping with them, so it was just her and Maximoff who entered the fragrant and poppy Victoria’s Secret. Carol headed straight for the newest display of pajamas when Wanda announced she was going to the bathroom, again.

“Uh, the bathroom soap smells so bad. And that clerk’s perfume makes me want to vomit.” Wanda gagged after returning from her third trip to the restroom.

“I thought it was nice.”

“So, explain something to me.” Her snippy friend began flipping through a rack with no enthusiasm what’s so ever, but her voice was still strained. “Why does someone who is disgusted by the notion of sex shopping for lingerie?”

Carol sent her an eye roll. They’d been over this at least a hundred times before, and Wanda was usually understanding. What was with her today? “Just because I’m Ace as fuck doesn’t mean I can’t have cute underwear.”

Wanda’s head dropped and she stopped browsing. “That makes sense.”

“Oh my God, Maximoff! Look at this mess! It comes with this weird tiara thing!” Carol decided to forgive her, and held up a red lingerie ensemble. “It’s _perfect_ for you!” she sung, but Wanda’s glare could have burned holes in the clothing.

“I am not wearing a slutty outfit with a tiara. Especially for a man.”

“No said anything it being for men! It’s about this tiara! Seriously how do you wear this thing?”

“Does it matter?”

“Damn, Maximoff.” Carol threw the tiara mess back on the display. She’d just have to come back so she could get it for Wanda’s birthday. Next, she tried a black lace bralette from the “clearance” rack. “Oooh, what about this one?”.

“Black and lace isn’t you.” Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed again.

“I meant for _you_ , Maximoff! What is with you today?”

“I think I’m a few days away from my period.” She shrugged.

Carol’s eyebrows furrowed this time. “Yeah, but even when you’re hormonal, you’re not this bitchy.”

Wanda gave another shrug and her eyes fell. “You may be right. I yelled at Pietro this morning for the smallest thing.”

Her yelling at Pietro was not new. Her admitting that she felt bad about it? Out loud? That was odd. Something was nagging at the back of Carol’s mind.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Carol handed her the bralette, but Wanda didn’t take it.

“I do not think I am going to try anything on today.”

“Really? Are you feeling that bad?”

“Yeah, I’m really sore. I’ve probably gone up a few sizes.” She cupped her chest and her shoulders sagged. For a split second, she wobbled back and forth.

“Wanda? Everything okay?”

She put one hand to her forehead and another back, looking for something to support herself. “I am just a little dizzy.” Carol turned her back for a split second to put the rejected bralette back onto the rack, when that nagging feeling in her mind returned, and it all clicked.

_Nausea, going to the bathroom a lot, sore boobs, super bitchy mood swings, dizziness… Oh my god._

“Um, Maximoff, any chance you might be-” THUD. “Wanda!!”

**-**

**Remember how Karen found that dead guy? Well, eventually Elektra found her, totally holding the knife… Anyways the staff called the cops. I mean, what else were they supposed to do?**

Clint Barton had mixed feelings about _The Maria._ He knew he should be proud because it was owned by one of his most successful foster sons, but he never was a fan of fancy hotels.

Because people always died there.

Clint had been a homicide detective with NYPD for the past five years after working for the FBI got too intense. In that five years, 9 cases had been of murder victims found in fancy hotels, so it was no surprise when the precinct got the call there was a body found stabbed to death in a room of _The Maria_.

The body, once a middle aged Daniel Fisher, had been “found” by a waitress named Karen Page, who had supposedly been delivering the man’s lunch, which supposedly had been an hour late. Another staff member found Karen forty-three minutes later, holding the murder weapon in her hand, knelt over the body.

“We’re taking her into custody,” Detective Bishop, his partner, informed him.

“What? Why?” Clint asked, after taking a long sip from his travel coffee mug. They had bagged the weapon, mapped out the crime scene, and let forensics take the body. He and Bishop were walking  around the room for a few more minutes looking for any evidence.

“We just want to ask her a few questions.” Bishop replied in the same monotone. “Looks like we’ve got everything here. Ready to head out?”

“You go ahead. There’s something that’s bothering me.”

Bishop nodded and left him alone, promising to radio in a few minutes.

Clint took in the room. A path of the “victim’s” blood led to an epicenter in the middle of the room. The murderer must have left the room without the murder weapon, so the trail of blood that must have been dragged away from the murderer had to have come from on that person, meaning…

He took an evidence bag out of his pocket, and bagged a cotton swab of the blood path.

Clint walked the perimeter of the room once more. “No obvious sign of struggle.”

The bed was made, the curtains were drawn, and no towels or toiletries had been disturbed in the bathroom. The smell of linen and lavender still lingered in the air. Mentally, he made a note to contact head of housekeeping.

It then dawned on him what exactly had been bothering him: Daniel Fisher had no personal items. There was no suitcase, no laptop, no clothes. In the outlets, no chargers. On the desk, no pens or notebooks or travel brochures. He looked threw the mini fridge, but it was completely empty.

Clint took another much needed sip of coffee before radioing his partner. “Hey, Bishop.”

“Yeah, Barton?”

“I need you to talk to the lobby staff. See when this guy checked in.”

“Can do.”

A few minutes later, Bishop radioed.

“So the kid at the front says he checked in three days ago.”

“Ask if they remember if he brought a suitcase, or any personal belongings”

“Okay. Give me a minute.” Then, “Yeah, you should probably just come down here.”

Clint left the room, after taking a long look and took the elevator back downstairs, where Bishop stood waiting with a bellhop, who fidgeted with his cuff buttons and stared at his boots.

“Calm down, kid.” Clint told the bellhop. “We just have a couple of questions. What’s your name?”

The valet took a deep breath. “Henry. Henry Phillip McCoy, but uh, everybody, uh calls me Hank.”

“How old are you, Hank?”

“I will be 22 in October. October the fifth.”

“October fifth, huh? That’s when my wife’s birthday is. How long have you worked here?”

“Two years.” He swallowed, but he was no long fidgeting with his hands.

“In college?” Hank nodded. “What are you studying?”

“Biochemistry, uh, and genetics.”

“Wow, Hank. I’m impressed, those are not easy majors. Is it okay if you we ask you about Daniel Fisher?”

The kid began to rock back and forth on the soles of his feet. “I’m sorry, but like I told your partner, I don’t know anything, actually. I wasn’t working the night he came in.”

“Do you think you could get me the name of the people who were working the night Daniel Fisher came in? Possibly ask the other bellhops if they saw any luggage or personal items?”

“Of course, anything you need, Detective-” Hank was interrupted by a young woman stepping abruptly in front of him. Her eyes were cold and her hands were in fists on her hips. Clint didn’t have enough coffee left for this.

“Karen didn’t do this. She’s not a killer.” The waitress stepped towards Clint and his partner.

“We’re not saying she did, Miss… Elektra. We just need to take her in for questioning.” explained Bishop. This didn’t calm the waitress down. “I’ve heard that bullshit a thousand times before. That’s not what you really believe. But I know Karen! She _did not_ do this!”

Taking a step back, Clint shook his head. “We promise nothing will happen to her without legal representation. Thanks for your help, Hank. Let us know if you find out anything about the luggage or the other employees. We’ll be in touch.”

Bishop and Clint turned away and rejoined the forensics team in the front of the hotel. Bishop raised an eyebrow, before asking, “Don’t you have a foster daughter who works here?”

“Yeah, she’s a waitress. I tried looking for her earlier, but they said she left for lunch.”

“Oh well.” Bishop shrugged. “Probably for the better. I wouldn’t want my kid involved in this shit show.”

-

**Turns out the only person whose day came the closest to being as terrible as Karen’s, was Wanda, now sitting in the hospital after Carol insisted she go to the emergency room after fainting in Victoria’s Secret.**

“I am _fine_!” Wanda told Carol for the tenth time. Yes, she had fainted, but she was most likely dehydrated. She told Carol this as well as she sat on a hospital bed, but Carol wouldn’t accept this as answer. She had dragged her to the emergency room where an annoyed nurse had taken her urine and blood, and had acted like it was the most inconvenient thing that could have happened her that day.

Wanda decided very early on she didn’t like the nurse either.

“You _fainted_ , Wanda.” Carol countered again, tugging on her Marine’s jacket for emphasis. “People don’t just faint for no reason!”

“I told you, I am just dehydrated!”

“In the eleven years I’ve known you, you’ve been dehydrated plenty, but you’ve never ever fainted. Plus, I think-”

“You’re pregnant.” There was the swift sound of the hospital curtain opening and the nurse, with her frown still set, stepped in.

“I’m what?”

“Pregnant.” She repeated, this time rolling her eyes.

“You’re kidding?” She tried to hold back the laughter that was bubbling in her chest and through her lips, but she failed instantly. She was _pregnant_? Very funny, St. Agnes Hospital,

Wanda kept laughing, until she noticed Carol wasn’t laughing with her. Neither was the nurse. Her stomach tightened in panic. “Wait, you are serious?” The nurse rolled her eyes again. “You cannot be serious. That can’t be, there is no way-”

“We tested your urine and the test was positive.”

“Then the test was wrong.” She looked from the nurse, to carol, and back to the nurse. “Seriously, you two, this is not funny!”

“I’m not joking.”

Wanda wanted so desperately to laugh again, but the stoic unmoving face of the nurse told her the nurse was not joking. Her blood turned to ice, the panic flying from her stomach to her chest.

_There is no way… this has to be a mistake…this is a bad dream, a terrible, terrible dream._

Wanda opened her mouth to ask if the joke was over now that she believed them, but her voice caught. “Are you sure?” Carol asked, stepping toward the nurse. “What if Wanda is right and the test is wrong? Hasn’t that happened before?”

“False positives happen, but they’re incredibly rare. So yes, I’m sure.” The nurse responded dryly. Carol turned back to Wanda with her eyes wide, and said something, but Wanda didn’t hear. She was too busy trying to make sense of the world crumbling around her.

_How… how could this happen? The last time I… that was with… this is not possible. Wake up, Wanda! Wake up, wake up, wake up!_

Carol had returned to arguing with the nurse but then Wanda’s voice burst through her panic. “I haven’t had sex since I was 23!” she told the nurse. “There has to be _some_ mistake!”

“Fine!” she threw her hands in the air.  “Let’s just do the test again! It’s not like I have other patients that need attention.”

Wanda drank another cup of water so fast she gave herself hiccups. Then the three of them waited for 20 more minutes listening to her painful hiccups until they could test another sample.

“Pink means positive,” the nurse spelled out. Her grating voice was an octave higher, as if she was speaking to children. “And positive means pregnant.” She made of show of propping her elbow up and sticking an indicator in the cup. She pulled it out again, the indicator slowly bleeding pink. “Hmph. Look at that. You, Miss Maximoff, are pregnant!”

“ _What?”_

“You described symptoms such as” she glanced at her clipboard. “Nausea, sore and tender breasts, irritability, fluctuating mood, frequent urination, dizziness, and fainting. You’re basically the poster icon for pregnancy symptoms.”

Two invisible hands began to concave her chest as the realization sunk in. The room pounded closer her to by the seconds, Carol’s voice slowed and distorted in the moving walls, and her heart beat kept time with her frantic thought of “I’m pregnant?” that repeated over and over and over again.

“Okay, this has to be some sick joke!” Carol was yelling at the nurse.

“Do I _need_ to explain basic sex to you, Ms. Danvers?” the nurse fired back. It was all coming too fast for Wanda. What was breathing again? How do you breathe? Her chest was on fire and it burned to force air into her lungs.

“Oh bite me!” shouted Carol. “If Wanda’s says she hasn’t had sex in three years, then she hasn’t had sex in the three years!”

_I’m pregnant I’m pregnant I am pregnant I am pregnant I am pregnant and also dying and I have the hiccups oh God…_

“Well I’m sorry your friend hasn’t been sharing the details of her sex life with you!”

“Then _why_ would she lie to you? Explain to me why she would lie to the damn hospital?”

“Ms. Danvers, I will call security if you cannot calm down-”

“Me? Calm down? I’m perfectly calm! I’m about to show you not calm-”

“Excuse me but I need to call my doctor!” Wanda yelled out. She jumped off the hospital bed, the nausea returned only elevating her panic. But her lungs had remembered how to breath once more and the room was no longer running out of wall space to become a mouse hole, and she managed to pull her cellphone out from her leather jacket and dial even with shaking hands.

“Yes, hi, yes, yes I’m fine, can I- can I speak to Dr. Cho?” she spoke into the phone. Her brain was forming the words in Sokovian as her panic continued and she had to remind herself, _English, Wanda, English!_ “Yes, yes I understand she’s very busy but I need to talk to her, immediately, yes, but- but it’s an emergency!”

The nurse on the other end told her to hold, and that Dr. Cho would be on in just a minute.

But that minute was an infinity, and the longer it drew on, the more real and the more tangible whatever _thing_ was growing inside her became.

“Yoboseyo? Oh, wait… Hello?” came Dr. Cho’s voice eventually.

“Hi, Dr. Cho. This is Wanda Maximoff, I saw you about two weeks ago? I think there’s been a massive mistake. I am at St. Agnes right now and they are telling me that I am _pregnant?_ ”

Another infinite moment, then a long sigh and some more Korean came through the other end. “Do you think you could come to the office right now, Ms. Maximoff? There’s something we should explain.”

-

**It only takes one moment to change everything. It only takes one simple thing to screw everything you knew up. But some moments are definitely more messed up than others.**

The first thought that came to Carol’s mind as she drove to Dr. Cho’s Clinic was, “ _This is so majorly fucked up”._ Carol had walked out of her home at age 17, was a pilot in the Air Force, and a surrogate so that another family could have their own baby, but she never, ever would have woken up that morning and said _this_ was going to happen.

In the car, Wanda sat in the passenger’s seat rocking back and forth with arms closed around her and whispering weird Sokovian phrases to herself. Carol turned the car radio down and side eyed her friend.

“So, does this make you like the Virgin Mary?”

Wanda didn’t stop her rocking. Instead, she just growled, “What?”

“You know, Mary, the mother of baby Jesus Mary, immaculate conception Mary, had a baby without sex-”

“I _know_ who the Virgin Mary was, Carol! And no, whatever mistake has happened, does not make this immaculate conception!”

“Because if you are like the Virgin Mary there are some things I should probably tell you-”

“ _Stop it,_ Carol! _”_

Carol turned the wheel and fought the urge in her arm to reaching to the volume dial. “Christ, Maximoff- shit I probably shouldn’t say that-”

“You’re not helping!” she cried. With a forceful thrust, she threw her head into her hands.

“Don’t do that Wanda. You’ll cut yourself on one of your rings.”

Dr. Cho was standing, iPad in hand, in front of the clinic when they pulled up. “It’s nice to see you again, Carol.” Dr. Cho spoke calmly to her first, ignoring Wanda stumbling out of the passenger’s side door. “How are Millie and the baby?”

“They’re great. I can show you some pictures-” Wanda had stumbled to support herself on the wall while Carol started to pull her phone out. Quieter, Carol added “But I think we should- uh, talk about this first.”

Dr. Cho nodded. “Of course, come into my office.”

Once the three of were taking their seats Dr. Cho’s fancy office, Wanda regained her lost composure and became the well-spoken, well as well-spoken as a woman with a heavy Eastern European accent could be, she usually had. “I am so sorry to bother you, Dr. Cho, I understand that you are really busy, but these tests! They are coming back positive and there has to be some kind of reasonable, scientific explanation.”

The gynecologist put her hand up to stop Wanda. “There is, actually.” She took a deep breath and pursed her lips before continuing. “When you came in two weeks ago, your appointment was registered as an Intrauterine Insemination, or what is more commonly known as an artificial insemination. The system registered that all legal consent had been given by both parties, but we recently adopted a new system that’s been malfunctioning.”

“But it was _supposed_ to be a pap smear!” Wanda brought her chair closer to Dr. Cho’s desk.

“And it was only registered in our system as a pap for a couple of days. Our records say that you changed it.”

“That is what you had asked about when you came in. When you woke me up.” Wanda put her head in her hands again. “Oh god, the drugs, the really emotional experience, you thought…”

Dr. Cho nodded. “Even if you had been taking fertility supplements, there was only a fifteen-twenty percent chance the sperm would take, but it looks like you have surpassed the odds, Miss. Maximoff. The intrauterine insemination was successful.”

Wanda moaned into her hands.

“So, she’s really pregnant?” Carol asked. Wanda was the closest thing to a real sister Carol had. They’d known each other for forever. But sitting here, watching her friend breakdown in Dr. Cho’s office her chest constricted, and the only thing she really wanted was to punch Dr. Cho’s throat.

_That’s only going make Wanda more upset, and it’s not the doctor’s fault, Danvers._

“I’m afraid so…but of course-” Whatever she was going to say next was lost when the door to her office opened and a nurse stuck her head saying something to her in Korean. All of a sudden, Dr. Cho’s right eye began to twitch and her hands balled into fists before she swiveled in her chair to the nurse and began to yell at her in full on, angry, quick Korean.

Carol watched the two go back and forth. Dr. Cho gestured to where Wanda sat and then at the nurse, while the nurse tried to defend herself. Her mouth was twisted like she was about to burst into tears. There was a tugging on her jacket

“I need you to call Pietro.” begged Wanda. She handed Carol her cell, setting Carol free of the hypnotizing argument. “I don’t - I do not think I can tell him this.”

“It’s okay, Wanda. It will be okay, I promise.” She put her hand on her friend’s shoulder, which Wanda squeezed and closed her eyes again.

Carol shimmied through Dr. Cho and the nurse, still trapped in their heated argument and into the hallway.

“Am I a terrible person for wanting Korean food right now?” Carol asked herself out in the hall as she waited for Pietro to pick up.

Pietro answered in Sokovian, thinking it was his sister, and Carol bit her lip. “What is everybody’s problem with English today?”

“Carol?” came Pietro’s surprised response and it dawned on her that she didn’t want to be the one explaining this either. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing, wow that’s a lie. Yeah actually something big happened. Is this a good time?”

“What happened to my sister, Carol?” His voice was a lot more strained now, probably speaking through his teeth.

“Um, okay, so remember how Wanda went to the lady doctor two weeks ago?”

There was a tiny whisper of “lady doctor?” but then “Yeah, I remember.”

“Turns out, she was artificially inseminated with another man’s sperm.”

-

**So while Carol gave the news to her brother, the hero of our story returned to panicking.**

The pictures on the wall were taunting her. Happy smiling couples holding a smiling baby, two babies in a bathtub, a cross section of uterus holding fetus… a lone woman, holding and stroking her pregnant belly. All mocking Wanda and her now very near future.

She could not be a mother.

She was not ready in any way. Working a minimum wage job as a waitress was barely enough to support her, much less _a child_. Her apartment - dear God, it was a chaotic wreck. Broken pipes, no heating, she didn’t have even have a washing machine. Could such a death trap be baby proofed? And when would she finish school? Was she doomed to have to start over, again? And on top of everything, everything that made her the worst candidate to be a parent - her depression, what child would want such a broken parent? A sob caught in her throat. Mental illness could be inherited, she had inherited it from her biological father, would this thing inherit it as well?

Was it doomed to be like her? To live a life in darkness, in terror, only to end up in the foster system?

She couldn’t be a mother. She was selfish and scared and unprepared. She did not want to be a mother. She wanted to wake up, to find Salem suffocating her on her pillow, to hear Pietro’s snores coming from the living room, and to tell herself that this was all just a bad dream.

Just a bad dream. Her mother’s wedding ring caught the fluorescent lights of Dr. Cho’s office. She would give anything to have her mother back, because Wanda knew she was still a child herself. She was too young to bring another life into the world.

“There are options, of course.” Dr. Cho was saying. The other nurse had excused herself and Carol was outside on the phone with Pietro (oh God, what would he make of this?) It was only her and Dr. Cho. “We can prescribe you a pill that will terminate the pregnancy.”

Terminate the pregnancy? So she could wake up from this nightmare? Did she… did she have the strength to do something like that? Dr. Cho wrote something quickly on a pad of paper that she then tore and began to hand to Wanda.

“But of course,” Dr. Cho stopped herself suddenly. Wanda’s hand and heart froze. “I think it would be best if you would consult with the father first. You are under no obligation to, but it was his only sample.”

The father? The father. Biologically, there had to be father. She had not even considered that there was a father… A new sense of dread filled her lungs like fire.

“The father?” Wanda choked out. _“Who is the father?”_

_-_

**He was currently standing on the highest floor of Stark Towers. #pure cinnamon roll #the shit’s about to hit the fan**

Vince stood regarding his pale reflection in one of Tony’s elongated windows that overlooked Manhattan’s skyline.  Behind him, Tony and Pepper kept the dinner party they were hosting alive with plenty of drinks and exotic food, accompanied by talk of “business.” Natasha was telling Rhodey off for some misinformed fact, but Rhodes continued to talk over her until Hill politely asked him to “shut the eff up.”

“Man, I’m really glad I brought Korean tonight because I don’t think I can take anymore Spicy Tuna Rolls.” Rhodes announced boastfully.

“I’d like to see you try Russian food some time, Rhodes. See if that would agree with you.”

“Natasha, he’d be on the toilet for a week. Maybe less if he was lucky.” Vince saw Hill flick her hand in the image on the window. Tony was getting up from the table, and came closer and closer in the reflection.

“You going to join us, Viszh? Cause you are kind of giving Pepper and me some serious Déjà vu.” Tony placed a hand on his shoulder.

Vince continued to stare out the window. “In a moment.”

“Long day?” his friend asked. He wore his sunglasses in doors again. “Or just tired?”

“The latter.”

“Yep, _The Maria_ , will take it out of you.”

Work at _The Maria_ had been fine, actually. He spent most of his time reading and signing maintenance reports and contracts left over from the renovations. Vince stayed in his office and his suite, attending Tony and Pepper’s continuous congratulatory dinners every other night.  When he had free time, he tried to learn the names of his staff, but they were often distant and nervous when spoken too. This he understood. He was their boss, not their friend.

He also spent his time drawing small sketches on old napkins and ten-year-old contracts. His pencil would trace out the lines of his dog, of guests he had seen that day, of the waitress he had crashed into him two weeks ago.

The maroon shirt had ended up surviving the champagne spill, but he saw little of the waitress even when he attempted to talk to the staff. Instead, he searched for her name in the employee files. Wanda Anastasia Maximoff. Unfortunately, this name had not wrung any bells.

Vince drew her as a desperate attempt to remember, because it was beginning to grate his nerves that he couldn’t.  Like a melody he’d heard before but couldn’t name, Vince could not for his life remember where he knew her from. The many drawings of her that littered his desk taunted him, as if to say, “She was important. You should not have been so occupied as to forget her.”

 _Maybe she was one of_ those _women_ , he thought to himself. Vince shook his head, discarding the option. He would not have forgotten _that_.

As hard as tried, and as many times as he drew her face, his mind would not recall where he had known Wanda Maximoff.

“That’s why you have to watch yourself, bud. Sleep is important, okay?” Back in the present, Tony was still speaking.

Vince was tired not because of work but because he rarely slept at night. Ever since he was a boy, he was tormented by chronic insomnia. He wasted away nights reading and disassembling computers, putting them back together before he saw dawn. Sleeping an average of fourteen hours a week only added to his frustration. He was several sleepless nights away from giving in and using the essential oils Pepper had gifted him.

“Okay, well.” Tony patted his shoulder again. “We’ll save you some Korean food.” He turned and strode back up the stairs to the table.

Vince went back to the skyline. Its endless chaos calmed him; the speeding cars and millions of lighted windows served as a reminder long that as he was awake, the world was awake as well, watching and waiting with him for order to come.

**_To Be Continued…_ **

_

_**_Song that plays at the end of the "episode":[Without You by Parachute](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5lpDVbzWzW0)_ ** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Miracles, etc...  
> As Karen sits in a holding cell for the night, Wanda struggles with making a decision about keeping the baby and her next pregnancy symptom, morning sickness. She must also find a way to tell her family. But how will the father take the news?
> 
>  
> 
> shout outs to my amazing beta! or should I say bae-ta! *cymbals crashing* None of this would be possible without you! or the readers ;)


	3. Episode 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding out she was accidentally inseminated with another man's sperm and is now pregnant, Wanda has to find a way to tell her family and somebody has to find a way to tell Vince. If only the reactions of their surrogate families where what they were expecting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> throws this at you cause I can't look at it anymore.

**Welcome back, let’s review where we left on in Miracles, Etc:**

**Wanda Maximoff’s seemingly ordinary life (minus her crazy terrifying past) was set on a new path when she bumped into her new boss who turned out to be an old almost boyfriend from high school, one very mysterious Vincent Anderson, whom she hasn’t spoken to or seen in ten years. But Wanda didn’t have to worry, because Vince doesn’t even remember where knew her from. Phew, right? Well, of course, until Wanda begins to feel sick after a gynecologist appointment, only to find out she was accidently inseminated and is now two weeks pregnant…with Vince’s child.**

**And did someone say something about a dead body?**

Because of Stark Industries’ plethora of Human Resource policies placed to “protect workers” prevented any minimum wage employee from access to any hotel commodities, workers were denied access to any of the pool, the restaurant, the bar, any guest rooms, and all of Stark’s media show rooms for any sort of leisure activity. This also included the hotel’s state of the art fitness center as well as basketball and volleyball courts.

So, when Stark Industries did not win the title “Best Teamwork Amongst Employees” that year amongst all their company awards, Human Resources announced to all hotel managers their staff had to complete a “quota of activities” that demonstrated a rise in teamwork.

Other hotels went on “company retreats”, or unfunded binges to bars and clubs, signed the paper work and went back to work. But at  _ The Maria,  _ head of staff Ororo Monroe saw it as an opportunity to petition for better treatment of the workers and access to hotel commodities.

The staff requested access to the pools, both indoor and outdoor, to have an employee retreat every other week. The request for every other week was countered and turned into every month, and then every other month, then twice a year, then once a year, and then not at all. The same happened when the staff asked for access to a movie day in the media room. Again when they asked to throw birthday parties in the restaurant. The final blow came when Human Resources struck down employee access to fitness center to carry out Carol Danvers’ suggestion for sports teams and competitions.

Falling behind on their quotas, and on probation after waitress Laura Kinney threatened to punch someone from HR,  _ The Maria  _ staff was just going to bullshit it like every other hotel had, until one-day Raven Darkholme caught two valets, Scott and Kurt, drawing dicks on the custodian’s whiteboard. Ororo then suggested “a community whiteboard”, and after she explained that it was a place where staff members could leave positive messages for each other; thus The Bernard Board was born. Named after the same plastic flamingo standing on the outdoor pools deck that had given  _ The Maria  _ it’s gold flamingo insignia, The Bernard Board was a series of poorly hung whiteboards around the concrete basement between the locker rooms. Each employee was given a small nine by eleven part of the board marked out by painter’s tape with their name written on top.

HR had approved The Bernard Board out of everything, saying that as long as each employee wrote a certain number of  _ positive  _ comments, they would count it as part of their quota. Most of the time staff members wrote things like “Good look on your finals, fam!” “Working you Thursday shift” or “Love you, bae!” Other people scribbled their snapchat and twitter handles in boxes, others wrote song lyrics or reminders. Carol Danvers drew a picture of her cat Flerken and Wanda Maximoff’s cat Salem together in Wanda’s box because she insisted the cats were gay and in love. Someone, probably the dishwasher Wade, had written “SEND NOODES” in permanent maker over Peter Parker’s box with what everyone assumed was Parker’s phone number and really well-endowed unicorn underneath. Luckily, HR thought it read “send noodles” and ignored it.

But tonight, #StandByKarenPage was written in almost every box on the whiteboard. News of her discovery of a murder victim and arrest had spread like wildfire throughout the hotel and ignited an unexpected opposition from  _ The Maria  _ staff. Hank spent two hours after he clocked out looking for the victim’s luggage, telling the other valets he needed to help Karen. Anna Maria and Kitty Pryde convinced the housekeeping and gardening staff to fight off the sea of reporters banging down the lobby door. Elektra had rallied the other waitress and demanded news from the silent NYPD.

“We will let you know when there’s any development,” the grumpy detective from earlier told Elektra again, and hung up before she could ask about Karen.

Elektra slammed the receiver down. “Damn cops!” she growled.

“Hey, try not to break my phone.” reprimanded Quill from somewhere behind the bar. He had been quiet throughout the whole ordeal.

“I’m calling again!” Elektra decided, but a hand stopped her.

“Don’t, Lektra. They’re just doing their job.” Jennifer tried to smile, but Elektra brushed her hand off. With red swollen eyes, Jean and Ororo watched Elektra from over the bar.

“Has anyone seen Mr. Anderson? Why hasn’t he been anywhere in this?” asked Gamora, speaking for the first time since Karen’s arrest. She sat behind the bar with Quill, biting her nails.

Quill shook his head and fiddled with his radio. Elektra wanted to smack the damn thing out of his hand. “I haven’t seen him since he left with Starbuck’s Most Valued Customer.”

“He should be involved with this. If there’s anyone who can do anything for Karen-”

“Stark Industries will want to put itself as far away from this is possible.” Jennifer stopped Gamora.  “The only thing that can help Karen right now is a lawyer. Let’s just help Elektra’s ‘connection’ can do what they can.”

**So as #StandByKarenPage** **exploded all over social media, there was one piece of information that hadn’t yet come to light.**

_

**Back in Stark’s Towers, Tony’s little Korean dinner party continued, everyone so happily oblivious… at least for now.**

“I’m just saying, Tony! Nicki Minaj is  _ ten times  _ better than Flo Rida.” Rhodes was bellowing to Tony, who was pacing half way across the room.

Vince observed from his lounge chair as Tony shook a finger a Rhodes. “That just shows musical ignorance, my friend. And dare I say, arrogance?”

“Okay, man, go back and relisten to The Pinkprint album, and  _ then _ come back and talk about ignorance. Go with deluxe, though, if you really want to be educated.”

Pepper moaned, “This is the Taylor Swift argument all over again!”

“I have to agree with Rhodes.” began Hill.

“That’s a first.” snickered Natasha.

“There’s no argument here, Tony.” She gestured with her beer bottle from her spot on the floor.

“Okay, okay.” Tony descended his modern silver staircase into the center of the room. “Let’s settle this. If Hill’s with Rhodes, traitor-”

Hill raised her bottle again.

“-then let’s break it down. How ‘bout you, Pepper? Flo Rida or Minaj?”

Pepper, from her spot on a white divan next a lounging Natasha, tapped her finger on her chin like she was thinking. “Flo Rida, I guess?” She waved her hand to send Tony onto the next person.

“Ah, what the hell Tony? You can’t use your musically incompetent fiancée to prove your point!”

Tony let out a boom of a laugh, but Pepper reeled. “What do you mean, musically incompetent?”

“Is  _ Love Yourself  _ on your ipod?”

“Yes…” Pepper admitted.

Rhodes smirked and crossed his arms in his victory. “See! Almost as bad as your organic protein shakes.”

“Hey, let’s not say anything here we don’t mean!” Tony warned. His overall tone remained light, yet Vince didn’t miss how he came a step closer to his fiancée.

Giving a shrug, Rhodes continued his campaign. “What, like Nicki Minaj isn’t a real artist?”

“Well, let’s ask one.” suggested Tony. “Nat? You’re the esteemed star of the Brighton Ballet Company and know a lot about  _ real  _ music and artistry.”

Natasha lifted herself onto her elbows and took a long sip of her beer. “Pass.”

“What about you, Vision?” Rhodes asked as Tony glared daggers in Natasha’s general direction. It was the first time since their argument had commenced they had regarded him. “You’re the deciding vote, then.”

“Well, in statistical terms, both artists are incredibly popular with their chosen audiences, and each sound they produce is pleasing to the ear-”

“Okay that’s enough from the human computer!” Tony raised a hand to stop Vince.

Since neither Vince or Natasha gave the correct answer, their argument concluded in stalemate. Rhodes then decided the only way to solve such a fight would be to play Nicki Minaj’s deluxe album through Tony’s deluxe speakers, but this endeavor only served to spark another argument when Rhodes could not figure out why his Bluetooth wouldn’t connect to the speakers and then realized Tony was interfering with said Bluetooth from his smartwatch.

“All is fair in love and war, Rhodey!” Tony boomed as if he were an actor on stage.

“This isn’t love  _ or  _ war! Stop messin’ with the speakers before I have to override this shit!”

Vince observed that Pepper and Natasha receded any interest to the problem and were now speaking in hushed tones. Rhodes and Tony bickered as if they were brothers. How simple all this was. Friends to act as a kind of surrogate family. All its simplicity yet complexity never ceased to make Vince wonder…

The deafening noise of telltale sirens and their blinding red and lights blurring into purple as they rode their way toward a family’s doom, a boy’s castle of twigs and dead leaves a victim of a brother’s angry destruction, the sickening, twisted odor of the skin of small animals-

The sudden sensation of a force moving his foot broke his reminiscence. The smell of Korean food and the scoffing of Rhodes filled his head once more.

“Your phone is ringing.” Hill told him. Her tone held no feeling at all.

Vince pulled out his phone from his back pocket; the screen did not read a random number and Vince’s knuckles tightened around the phone. The ringtone must have alerted the others, because he heard Tony’s voice ask “Vince? Everything okay?”

“I would hope so.” He swallowed. “It’s uh… it is the fertility clinic.”

“The fertility clinic?” asked Tony, his voice incredulous. The ring tone ended, but the a red notification did not appear over his voicemail app. Vince’s thumb hovered the phone icon.

“Yes. Rhodes, can you turn your music down? I’m going to try and call again.”

Rhodes complied, turning  _ The Crying Game  _ down only slightly. Before Vince could hit redial, his phone started to ring again.

“Hello? Is this Mr. Anderson?” a soft voice came through the receiver.

“Yes, it is. How are you, Dr. Cho? It’s been quite a while since we spoke.”

Tony took a place next to Pepper, and Rhodes took a seat on the ground next to Hill, who passed him another bottle of beer.

Dr. Cho laughed on her end of the line. “Yes, yes it has. I hope you’ve been well. No relapses?”

“None at all.”

“That’s good to hear.” She laughed once more, and then it became strained and quiet. “I’m… I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news.”

Unfortunate news. Unfortunate news. Vince’s mind was a whirlwind of doctor’s voices, sickening medications, and the last time someone had unfortunate news. He managed to choke “Unfortunate news? Did something happen to the clinic?”

“No! No!” she assured him. Vince could feel Tony and Pepper’s eyes, like those of a hawk, watching him. “It’s just… It’s just that we needed to inform you that the clinic has made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Vince leaned forward in his chair. “Can you clarify what you mean by mis-”

She stopped him before he could finish. “We accidentally inseminated a young woman with your sperm.”

**And there it is.**

_

**The shit hath hitteth the fan.**

In all the years Tony had known Vince, he knew him through shit storms like almost having your shoulder shot off and almost dying of cancer and some other really messed up stuff that came with having a dysfunctional family.

All of these experiences had made Vince was a no nonsense kind of guy, and Tony respected that. It was probably one of the things that made him most qualified to take over  _ The Maria. _ On top of this, Vince’s IQ matched Tony’s, which was rare. But the guy was quiet. He came to the dinners and the parties, but only commented when he had something factual or philosophical or some Dead Poet’s Society mixture of both to say. So, it was flashing red light that something wasn’t exactly right if he was all of a sudden straightforward.

The night was following the same pattern: Tony gritting his teeth through Nicki Minaj and Pepper and Nat gossiping on the sofa behind his back, Vince people watching from an arm chair.

Pepper stage whispered, “Vince is on the phone, Rhodey! Turn it down!”

“Or just turn it off!” added Tony. Rhodey stuck his tongue out at them because he was a five year old. Because Tony was five too, he stuck out his tongue back. He could feel Pepper rolling her eyes behind him.

Hill stood quickly like she was all of a sudden on fire. “Hey, uh, Stark, have you seen that-”

Looking back, Tony should have known another shit storm was coming.

“You accidently inseminated a young woman with my sample?”

Just like that.

The music stopped and Vince stood. Everyone whirled around to face him like it was something out of a Saturday morning cartoon. Hill clutched her phone with white knuckles, Tony thought she looked like she was about to vomit.  Pepper and Natasha sat up straighter.

“What the hell did he just say?” Rhodes mouthed. Tony shrugged and turned to see what his friend would do next.

Hand crumpling the top of his hat, Vince almost yelled into the phone. “Dr. Cho, how did this happen? A computer malfunction? I apologize but that seems fictional! Yes, I understand but-”

Natasha spoke up. “What’s going on?”

“Yes, yes, I understand.” He had visibly calmed, but ignored Natasha. His voice softer, he asked. “Can I ask who this woman is- Hello? Dr. Cho? Helen!” Suddenly, he threw his cellphone on the seat, put his hands in pockets and started for the glass doors. “I have to go.”

“Inseminated?” Hill questioned three seconds after the glass doors slammed shut. “That doesn’t mean what I think it means, right?”

“If you think it means someone is now pregnant, then yes.” Natasha responded, dryly as ever.

“Are we suddenly in a soap opera and nobody decided to tell me?” joked Rhodes.

Tony stroked his goatee. “Oh by the way Rhodes, we’re in a soap opera now.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“I’m going to check on the big guy. He looked pretty rattled.” He turned around to the group. “Anyone else wanna join me?”

Natasha, Rhodes, and very pale Hill went straight for nose goes, but Pepper was off the couch in a heartbeat and then the two of them were through the glass doors. Vince stood on their balcony, overlooking the city and clutching the railing.

“You gonna fill us in?” Tony asked. Vince didn’t look at him or Pepper. “You stormed out pretty fast.”

“Tony, this is not-”

“Before you say this is something I should not involve myself in” he said, making appropriate use of Vince’s fancy accent, “you should know that whatever it is, Pepper and I aren’t going anywhere.”

Pepper took this as a cue to step forward and reached to put a hand on his shoulder. “Tony’s right. And besides, we heard the phone call, so.”

“There was a malfunction at the fertility clinic. In accordance with Dr. Cho’s story, their system used to register and track patients malfunctioned. They mixed a young woman’s appointment up and-”

“Got her pregnant?”

“Yes.” His shoulders tensed.

“With your kid?”

“It looks that way.”

Pepper covered her mouth with her other hand. “Vince, I don’t even-”

“I have to go to her.” Vince whirled around; his stoic macho robot face had returned. He set off again, this time at a faster pace, and Tony and Pepper had to jog to keep up with his long legs.

“Wait, do you know who this woman  _ is _ ?” demanded Pepper. “How are you supposed to even find her?”

“How do you walk so fast?”

Vince ignored Tony’s wheezing and answered Pepper. “No, they - I asked for her information, yet Dr. Cho became distracted and I was not able to learn anything more.”

“So what now?” Pepper asked softly. “Do you want to try and call again?”

“The only other alternative is to wait until they call with more information.” sighed Vince.

“C’mon, Vince. It’s not like they used your sample to impregnate someone and won’t even tell you. Oh  _ wait _ , that’s exactly what’s happening!”

“Tony-”

“Vince, hear me out. They’ve already messed up. They’re the ones who made a huge mistake and have now completely messed up  _ your _ life. They’ve got no right to withhold any more information from you.”

Pepper put her hand on Vince’s shoulder. “He’s right, Vince. And if Tony’s right, then you know-”

“Hey!”

“Call the clinic back. Drop the Stark name if you have to.”

Thank God this was all it took to get Vince back inside and that they managed to avoid a philosophical debate that ended with Vince running into the night after some strange woman he didn’t even know. Sighing, Pepper took Tony’s hand. As they followed Vince, her ring bumped into his own. Tony bit back a smile.

But that smile faded when Vince opened the glass door and Rhodes and Hill stood in the middle of the room yelling at each other over the sound of Nicki Minaj.

“How could you not catch this before the media?” Hill stomped her foot.

Rhodes responded by stomping his foot. “ _ You’re  _ the director of Human freakin’ Resources! Isn’t it  _ your  _ department’s job to monitor social media?”

“No, Rhodes!” she yelled like she was talking to a four-year-old. “ _ My _ job is to protect the company! Your job is monitor public reaction! Isn’t that what Stark hired your ass for?”

“Rhodes, Hill?”

The two spun around, their nostrils flaring and Tony took a step back. “Maybe now is not the time to do this, ‘cause guess who’s gonna be a dad!”

Hill put a hand on her head. “I need an aspirin.”

“Get the whole bottle. Top shelf in the kitchen.” Pepper directed. Tony spun around to her, lifting an eyebrow. Pepper was notorious - and as much as he loved her, anal - for her stance on medication for the past six months. She was their resident “the side effects outweigh the benefits blah, blah, blah, all natural is better, blah, blah.” Now every time a migraine struck Tony out of left field and he tried to go for the Excedrin and can of Pepsi in the fridge, Pepper was there hammering him with different types of essential oils and that week’s pick of exotic herbs.

“So what’s the story, V? The doctor really knock somebody up with your sperm?” asked Rhodes. Hill had returned with the aspirin and was passing some of the red pills to Pepper. Nat was nowhere to be found.

“It would seem the doctor did. I have to call them back. Would mind turning the music  _ off  _ this time?” his polite tone was strained, and Tony saw his shaking hands as he grabbed the cellphone of the chair.

“So what were two arguing about?” Rhodes and Hill exchanged a look.

“Hello, good evening to you as well, ma’am. My name is Vincent Anderson and I was wondering…”

“You wanna tell him?” Rhodes smirked at Hill.

“I understand she is very busy, but I only need information…”

“No,” scoffed Hill. “I think that’s  _ your  _ job.”

“A name. I need the name of the woman who was inseminated with my sample. I talked with Dr. Cho a few minutes ago-”

“Hill!”

“Rhodey!”

“Are about to be fired unless they tell me what the hell is going on!” Tony burst out.

“No, I need her name and her information so that I may contact her about the- hello? Ma’am? Are you still there? Is everything okay?”

“You said something about social media not catching something?” Pepper sighed, popping another red pill in her mouth.

“Have you not seen it?” Hill lifted one of her scary eyebrows and Rhodes did the same.

“It’s all over the news man, we thought that at least you had seen it-”

“Can you please give me her name!” Vince shouted. The four of them turned around to see Vince pacing rapidly back and forth, clutching his hat and his phone. “Hello?”

The line must’ve gone dead - again - because Vince collapsed into the chair. With a sigh, he started, “They would not tell me.”

“Vince…” Pepper sighed. She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“That eludes me. The nurse who answered me was being incredibly cryptic-”

“I wonder what that’s like.” Tony shot a glance at Rhodes and Hill.

“-but then she began to speak in Korean to another nurse, and soon there was shouting and talk of lawyers.” Vince sighed again. He stood up, and walked to one of the glass windows. “All the nurse said before hanging up is that they would put her in touch with me.”

“How long until that happens?” asked Pepper.

“That eludes me as well.” He answered, mostly to the window.

“Well we might have a bigger problem.” Natasha’s voice came from the opposite end of the room. She strode down the steps and picked up the TV remote. “A much, much bigger problem.”

“Terror strikes famous Stark hotel tonight at the revered  _ Maria,  _ the oldest and founding luxury attraction under the name of this multi-billion-dollar company where journalist Daniel Fisher was found dead, stabbed twelve times in his chest cavity.” A news anchor stood in front of the golden doors of  _ The Maria. _

Tony’s stomach dropped into his feet and his hands began to get numb. “What? What is this about?”

“The NYPD have apprehended only one suspect, 25 year-old Karen Page, who works as a waitress here at  _ The Maria _ . Page supposedly found Fisher’s body when she was bringing him lunch to his room but-”

“Why wasn’t I told about this!?”

“Because we thought you knew!” Rhodey fired back. “We just found out!”

“I literally would’ve been  _ losing my shit  _ if I had known, Rhodes! When did this happen? A couple hours ago? Did it not cross anyone’s mind that I  _ might  _ want to hear about this?!”

“Tony!” Pepper’s hand was on his shoulder, and the feeling in his fingers returned. “Take a deep breath,  okay?” she whispered softly.

“-and while NYPD has released no information regarding Ms. Page, they will have to answer to the ever increasing pressure from the staff who has turned to social media and have started the tweet #StandByKarenPage that is now blowing up all over New York.”

“You guys know what this means, right?” Tony managed to choke out. Pepper’s grip on his shoulder tightened.

Rhodes flopped down on the couch. “That our asses our screwed?”

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” sighed Pepper.

**Or that's the** **_only_ ** **way to put it.**

**_**

**Meanwhile… in jail.**

Karen couldn't feel her hands. She put her hands under her legs, trying to warm them up, her teeth chattering. What she wouldn’t give for her apartment and fuzzy socks. This was nothing like Orange is the New Black.

After Kinney found her with the body - Daniel, his name was Daniel - everything after blurred together. Kinney called 911 and the next thing everyone knew,  _ The Maria  _ was lit up with the red and blue lights of police sirens. An EMT was then shining lights in her eyes, taking her blood pressure, and said something about shock. Then came the click of the handcuffs, and she was being shoved into the back of a cop car by a rough man much bigger than her. Karen heard Elektra yelling at someone, but when she twisted in the seat to try and yell back to her roommate, all she saw was CSI team was carrying out the black body bag that held Daniel Fisher.

The cops in the car with her spoke in quiet whispers. Every once in awhile, one of them would glance back through the screen that separated Karen from them. Karen swallowed her nerves as the drive seemed to take an eternity.

Once at the prison, Karen skin rose up with goosebumps in the freezing cold of the facility. One of the cops threw her an orange uniform and told her she could change in her holding cell.

“Don’t I get a phone call?” finally finding her voice, she asked the cops as they took the handcuffs off of her.

The cop huffed. “Yes. But make it fast.”

Karen’s fingers flew over the cold keys of the phone. She shivered as it rang and rang and rang and rang-

“What?” demanded the familiar voice.

“Elektra!”

“Page? Oh my god, I’ve been so worried! Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m okay, I promise.” she reassured her. “But I don’t know what to do! I didn’t do this and I-” her voice caught with a sob.

“I know, hon. But  _ don’t  _ say anything yet okay? Not without a lawyer.” Elektra told her.

“I can’t afford a lawyer! Not a good one, anyway. I’m screwed, Lektra.”

Elektra was silent for several infinite seconds. “I think I know someone who can help you.”

“I don’t know, Elektra…”

“No, Karen. I have a connection. He owes me a favor. Just give me a few hours, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

The cop told her that her time was up, so Karen gave Elektra a hurried goodbye and promised talk to her soon.

But it had been four hours since the phone call and Karen’s skin had frozen over by then. She was sure her lips were blue. The cop had taken her from her holding cell, where she had sat on her bed crying, only to put her in any even colder interrogation room.

“There's someone here to see you.” he answered after she dared to ask why she'd been moved. “Wait here.”

But it had been thirty something minutes ago, Karen estimated, since that damn cop had left. She shivered again in her thin orange clothing and expected any moment to see her breath when the door opened again. In came a different cop, followed by two shadows.

The shadows entered the room, one of them laughing loudly. They were two young men, one taller, thinner and darker than the other who was shorter and rounder. The tall one wore a pair of dark glasses and held in his hand a long silver cane.

The shorter one spoke first. He reminded Karen of a teddy bear. “Okay, can we please take the handcuffs off the hundred and ten pound woman?”

“Ms. Page,” the cop grunted, “do you knows these men?”

“We’re her lawyers. Now please take her handcuffs off and leave us be.” the tall one with glasses demanded in a soft voice.

Karen let out the breath she’d been holding as the cop pulled out a key and took the cold cuffs off. She now owed Elektra big time.

“Ms. Page.” The tall one smiled, after the door shut. “I’m Matt Murdock. This is my partner, Foggy Nelson.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Page.” Foggy Nelson smiled and held out his hand. She shook it tentatively.

“Your hands are really cold.” he told her, his eyes wide. “Gotta make sure we get this one some gloves, Matt.”

The corner of Matt’s mouth turned slightly. “Are you cold, Ms. Page? You’re shivering.”

His comment took Karen aback. She could’ve sworn he couldn’t see her - with his glasses and cane and all she assumed… yet he knew she was shaking back and forth. “Um, yeah, I’m freezing but I uh thought you were…” she tapped her forehead near her eyes, even though he should not have been able to have seen that either. Foggy Nelson snickered.

“I can hear your teeth chattering.” he answered, his voice calm.

Foggy Nelson snickered again. “Turns out being blind means you get weird superhuman senses.”

“Ms. Page, if you are up to it, could you give us your account of today's events?” Something in this blind stranger’s voice calmed Karen's nerves.

She rubbed her hands together before taking a deep breath. Her voice was soft first as she started to tell them how she had been spending her lunch break helping out at the bar when Elektra came and asked her to bring up a lunch to Daniel.

“Why did you go inside?” Foggy Nelson asked after she explained how Daniel had not responded.

Karen twisted her shaking hands. “Gut feeling, I guess. I just felt something was wrong.” Matt Murdock nodded.

“Looks like you were right.” Foggy Nelson squinted his eyes.

“When I went in,” Karen continued. “I didn’t see Daniel at first, just this path of blood. Then the knife.”

“Ms. Page, why did you pick the knife up?” inquired Matt Murdock.

“I don't know! I guess I just thought I was in some terrible nightmare and wanted to prove it wasn’t real.”

“You do understand that your prints are all over the murder weapon because of this?” Foggy Nelson frowned.

“The odds are stacked up against you, Ms. Page.” added Matt Murdock.

“I  _ didn’t  _ do this!” she insisted, slamming her hand on the table between them. “I… I didn’t do this. I didn’t kill Daniel.”

“We believe you.” Matt Murdock said in the same calm tone.

“We do. We do?” Foggy Nelson looked at his partner with wide eyes.

“She’s telling the truth.”

Foggy Nelson sighed, but then smiled again at Karen.

“Did you have any prior interactions with Mr. Fisher?” Matt Murdock continued.

Karen shook her head. “No. Most waitresses never interact with the guests unless they come down to the restaurant, and he never did. I didn't even know he was checked in.”

“According to Fisher’s record, he’d been working on a piece regarding.” Foggy glanced at his notes. “Healthy Young Dependents Rallied Association. Do you have any connection with said group?”

“That cult who does all the human trafficking and drugs? Of course not!”

“No need to get upset, Ms. Page. It was just a question.”

Karen took another deep breath.

“Ms. Page, we're going to do our best for you going forward. We promise you.” Matt assured her.

Foggy smiled in agreement. “Yeah, we promise you’re in good hands. And thanks for letting us help you, even though it’s only our first case!”

“Uh, how long have you two been practicing law?’

Matt and Foggy exchanged a look, and Foggy responded “About seven hours.”

Her stomach soured. This was Elektra’s connection? A blind guy and his teddy bear.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the opening of the concrete door. In stepped one of the detectives she’d seen earlier, holding a mug of coffee.

“Everything okay in here?” he asked.

Matt nodded and stood.

“Blind, huh?” the defective smirked.

“Legally.” quipped the lawyer.

“Legally deaf.” He extended his hand for Matt to shake it. “Guess you’re Ms. Page’s lawyers?”

Matt nodded again. “If we are hired.”

The detective took an empty chair and smiled at her. “You okay?” he asked.

Karen couldn't dignify that with a response. She had been arrested for the murder of innocent man she didn’t commit, her lawyers were inexperienced, her wrists were chafed because of stupidly cold handcuffs, her organs were starting to fail from hypothermia, and he was asking if she was  _ okay _ ?

“She’s cold.” Matt said for her. “Can you get her something warmer for her to wear.”

The detective nodded. “Yeah, I can see if we've got a blanket around the station. But first I need to ask Ms. Page some questions.”

“Just tell him what you told us.” Foggy leaned in toward her.

So Karen did. She explained again why she had gone up to the room, why she had entered when no one answered, how she saw the blood first and the knife second, and why she picked it up. Foggy nudged her leg with his shoe, and Karen added she had no connection with Daniel or the Healthy Young Dependents Rallied Association.

The detective, who she now knew as Detective Barton, was silent throughout her story. Once she was finished, he sat for a few more minutes before nodding

“My partner and I are looking into the details of Fisher’s stay in New York. Until then, we’ll let you know if something comes to light.” he stood up from his chair, taking his mug. “I’m going to look for that blanket. You need anything else?”

Karen didn’t answer, so Detective Barton said goodbye to Matt and Foggy and let himself out the door.

“I think that’s our cue, Murdock.” Foggy shrugged.

“We’ll be in touch, Ms. Page.” Murdock stood up after his partner.

“Karen.” she told them, stopping them before they could walk out. “You guys can call me Karen.”

“Alright, Karen.” Matt smiled, and Foggy waved goodbye.

The cop came shortly after they left and led her back to her holding cell. Waiting there for her on the bed, was a massive blue quilt.

_

**And remember, the only person whose day might be as bad as Karen’s, was Wanda. Back at** **_The Maria_ ** **…**

“I thought I’d find you here.” A voice from behind Wanda interrupted her intense train of thought. Wanda sat on the edge of the outdoor hot tub, her swollen feet dangling in the warm bubbly water. In her she’d felt a weight since Dr. Cho had confirmed the baby. Now it tormented her, even though she knew there was no possible way she could feel it growing inside of her. She had demanded, had almost begged, Carol to take her back to work after the doctor’s appointment and pregnancy revelation, but Carol hesitated.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea.” she warned. To make this terrible day even _more_ terrible, Carol told her that Karen had been arrested because she had been found kneeling over a dead body. The placebo weight in Wanda was heavier suddenly. “The hotel’s kind of a chaotic wreck right now.”

“It’s not the only one.” she sighed. Carol cursed Wanda jokingly for making her feel so guilty, but she took her back to the hotel. Hoping that the dinner rush would take her mind off of the placebo weight inside her, she was crushed when  _ The Maria  _ was silent. She had tried to talk to her coworkers about what happened to Karen, but they kept silent, staring at her with swollen red eyes, and Wanda had to give up. Not even worrying about what was happening to her friend could not keep her from thinking about  _ it _ . Her hand absentmindedly on her lower belly, Wanda made her way out to the hot tub. Her feet ached from her infernal heels, and her stomach was starting to hurt again. Sitting in the dark as they arrived at the hotel so late, the light from the hot tub illuminated her in a blue glow.

But her mind did not slow from its fast pace. It came back to the same thought again and again and again: this was  _ not _ happening. There was not a baby growing inside her. It was not the child of a man she didn’t think she could face again. She could not be a mother.  _ None of this is real. _

Except that is was happening. There was something - someone - growing inside her. At this moment, she was a mother.

She was having a baby. God, she was having  _ a baby _ . 

“My feet hurt.”

“Yeah, that I remember.” Carol shed her heels and took a seat next to Wanda, staying silent for a long few minutes, then blurting out, “I punched Norman Stonewall in the nose when I was in the third grade and then poured ice in his pants on my sixth grade field trip and blamed it on my friend Katie who had a crush on him and last week I ate Wade’s chimichangas and blamed it on Peter.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“We’ve been over this, Maximoff! What if you’re some type of religious messiah and I’m supposed to confess all my sins to you?” she asked, sounding so genuine and completely serious that Wanda couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“I am not a religious messiah, Danvers!”

“Okay,” intoned Carol, “but when you start walking on water can I tell you about the time I punched Stacy Martin in the nose because she was pissing me off?”

“If you want to so badly, then yes.”

“The tiara is still bothering me.” Carol added out of nowhere after a few seconds of quiet.

Wanda found a laugh bubbling in her throat despite the heaviness in her chest. She slumped against her taller friend. “You pin it to your hair.”

“Like with bobby pins?”

Wanda nodded against Carol’s shoulder.

“Ohhhhhh- wait how do  _ you  _ know that?” A look of suspicion came over Carol’s face.

She shrugged. “Another life.”

Carol chuckled. Bubbles from the hot tub tickled Wanda’s feet and eased the aching inside in her. For a moment, Wanda’s chaotic mind stilled, until Carol started to pull something out of her pocket, interrupting the hypnotizing sound of the bubbles. It was the orange bottle of pills Dr. Cho had prescribed. The placebo feeling was, in that moment, so much stronger.

“How you holding up, kiddo?” she asked quieter.

“I have been better.” Wanda admitted in a small voice.

Carol placed the bottle in Wanda’s open hand. “I got your prescription. I’ve got some bad news though; insurance won’t cover it. Motherfucking Stark and his stupid ‘benefits’. Benefits, my ass.”

Tears broke in Wanda’s eyes. Clutching the bottle in her hand, she choked. “I do not want to talk about this.”

“Maximoff,” Carol wrapped her arm around Wanda’s shoulder. “I know how you feel. I don’t ever think I’m ever going to forget how scared I was when they told me the embryo took.”

“No, Carol, it’s different. You were a surrogate, that embryo was not yours. You had the baby because you wanted to help someone. I - I did not want this baby. I did not want to get pregnant. My whole life-” Wanda stopped to take a deep breath. “My whole life I have worked so that I would be prepared to have a family, so that my child would not-”

“Turn out like you?” Carol whispered. Wanda nodded, blinking away stubborn tears, and Carol’s arm tightened around her shoulder.

Then Carol tapped the bottle in Wanda’s hand. “You don’t have to have this baby, Wanda.”

“What if- what if can’t do this?” Wanda swallowed.

“Then like I said, you don’t have to.”

Carol was wrong, believing Wanda had been referring not keeping the baby - but really, she had meant terminating the pregnancy. To swallow one of the yellow pills seemed impossible after what Dr. Cho had told her - but she had never wanted to be so selfish in her life. The placebo weight in her belly returned.

“For what it’s worth, Maximoff, I think you turned out pretty fucking cool.”

Wanda did not respond, rather she tried to direct her thoughts to the sensation of bubbles on her feet, and not the sensation inside her.

“Hey, I have a surprise for you.” Carol nudged her when she couldn’t get her to respond.

“Is it another confession? Who did you blame this time?”

“Ha, ha, Maximoff. Fake laugh.” she told her dryly. “But seriously, there’s a surprise waiting for you in front.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.” Carol crossed her arms and handed Wanda her heels.

Wanda sighed, slumping farther onto her friend. “What if I do not want to get up?”

“Then I’m going to sit here and tell you about the time in Air Force I almost ran over superior officer and who I threw under the bus. Literally.”

Wanda snorted in response, but didn’t move even when Carol started to push her off her shoulder. “C’mon, Maximoff, we gotta get up before someone catches us breaking Stark rules and tells Vince Anderson on us.”

**Oooooh. Did I mention Wanda hasn’t told Carol who the father is?**

As soon as Carol said this, Wanda had been swinging one leg out of the pool, but then every muscle in her body froze once Carol said his name. Clenching in her hands in her fists, she had to take a deep breath to keep them from shaking.

“You okay?” Carol asked as she tried to lift her other foot out of the hot tub.

“Yes.” She attempted to put her soaking feet in the heels, but when they wouldn’t for the life of her fit. Cursing, she gave up and started off barefoot for the gate. Suddenly, the placebo weight forced her hand and she turned back. “Thank you, Carol.”

“Sure thing, Maximoff. Text me if something happens, kay?”

Wanda left her friend dangling her feet in the hot tub and made her way out the good to the dark parking lot, lost in thought once again. It was not that she couldn’t understand where Carol was coming from, she could, but in the same moment, Wanda felt like she was being mocked. Carol never had to make the decision Wanda now had to make. That decision had already been made for her.

“Hey baby sister.”

Wanda looked up from her feet and there Pietro stood, leaning on his Camaro with his arms crossed, still in his worn out blue windbreaker. He wore the worried expression she knew so well, the one he reserved for when his sister got herself into trouble.

“What are doing here?” she asked in her native language, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

Pietro shrugged his shoulders, as if it was nothing. “Carol called me and told me what happened-” Wanda didn’t let her brother finish. She threw herself into her brother’s arms, and broke down in sobs.

“Bad day?” he asked in Sokovian.

“You have no idea.” she cried into his shoulders.

“Am I really going to be an uncle? Because I promise I’m going just going to be a bad influence on this kid.” Wanda could tell he was trying to make her laugh, but her laughter was lost in the translation of her sobs.

They stood there for a quiet minute, Pietro rocking her back and forth like their father had done when she was little, speaking to her in familiar Sokovian. He kissed her forehead. “Let’s go home, okay?”

She lifted her head, wiping the hot tears from her eyes, only to have them return with a vengeance when Pietro opened her door for her. Pink Floyd’s  _ Signs of Life _ played on his stereo as Pietro drove carefully through the New York roads. She closed her eyes and let the music sing her into a peaceful trance.

He must have thought she had fallen asleep, because she heard her brother hit his steering wheel- and hit it  _ hard  _ \- and curse in Sokovian as the pulled up to the apartment. “You don’t deserve this, Wanda. You’re the last person who deserves this.” 

_

“So you really believe Karen Page?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

**Welcome to Hell’s Kitchen and to Josie’s bar- where two lawyers can talk about their first exciting case - well first case ever - and, you know, get wasted.**

“Well, for starters, all the evidence points to her.” As Foggy spoke Matt heard Josie refill their shot glasses. “And she was shaking. Inexperienced criminals have hard time concealing guilt, you know.”

“You were the one who said it was cold as balls when we entered the precinct.”

“Okay, I see your point. But what about the part where she picked up the knife?” Foggy reminded him.

“What would you have done?” asked Matt.

“Run.” Foggy told him matter-of-factly. “Run the hell away.”

“She was in shock. Besides, do you really want to be picking apart our first case?”

His partner sighed, and Matt heard Foggy’s hands as they moved to pick his fourth shot. “Okay, okay. I’ll drop it. But uh, how did you find this girl again? I mean even me bribing cops couldn’t get us a solid case, and I gave that one grumpy detective who’s always drinking coffee a five-dollar gift card to Starbucks!”

**But real talk Foggy, what can you get at Starbuck’s for five dollars?**

“You fellas really got your first case?” Josie asked from somewhere behind the bar.

Foggy nodded like a young kid. “Yep, homicide! Told you we were going places!”

“Well then it’s on the house.” she told them, and the sound of her slamming more shot glasses down echoed.

“You were saying something about how you got this case?” Foggy asked.

“No I wasn’t.”

“Of course you were!” insisted his partner.

Matt shook his head and laughed. “You’re drunk, Foggy.”

“Nah! I’ve only had one, no two, no three-”

“Five.”

“Five of these! But  _ c’mon,  _ Murdock, I wanna know!”

“Alright.” sighed Matt, giving in. “Elektra called me.”

“Elektra?  _ The _ Elektra? From school?” Matt knew Foggy well enough to know that his mouth was most likely open.

“No Foggy, the one from Woodstock.”

**God bless Matt Murdock.**

“How does  _ she  _ know Karen Page?” he asked, most likely still gaping like a fish.

“Uh, they are roommates, I believe. They both work at  _ The Maria _ .”

Foggy giggled. “Looks like she definitely upgraded from you.”

“Okay, I’m cutting you off. Josie, no more for this guy!”

There was a thud as Foggy quickly holstered himself over the bar, most likely to prevent Rose from taking away his shot glass, but she, unlike Foggy, was sober and the swish of a hand told Matt she’d gotten to it first. Foggy’s heartbeat quickened and he yelled, “This is  _ anarchy _ , Murdock!”

“You’re the one who is always complaining about ‘dragging my ass’ out of bed when I’m hungover. I don’t have any more desire to do it to you.”

“Your bedside manner needs some work.” The sound of Foggy’s glass sliding down the wood and the clap of Josie’s hand around the shot glass. Matt sent her a smile. This way, Josie saved on liquor. “So, Elektra Natchios, huh? You okay with that?”

Matt readjusted his glasses. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you two kind have a history. And that might cause sexual awkwardness on this case.”

“I promise not to sleep with her, Foggy.”

“That’s what you said about that red head.” Matt could almost  _ hear  _ his partner rolling his eyes. “Just promise me you’ll keep your head in the game.”

“Something’s bothering me.” Matt ignored Foggy’s question, and Foggy scoffed.

“Okay, I’ll throw you a bone. What is it?”

“ _ The Maria  _ has an electronic housekeeping system. The hotel uses it mainly for tracking which rooms needed to cleaned after a guest leaves, that system is all on computers, but guests can access it through an app on their phones and request things like towels and room service. It’s how the restaurant on the bottom floor receives notifications from the top floor for breakfast and dinner orders. On the day Daniel Fisher was murdered, a notification was sent out to the restaurant to prepare him lunch.”

“Yeah, the guy had good taste too. Fillet mignon with lemon zest? Here was a man who knew how to live.” Matt heard Foggy chew on his lip. “Isn’t the notification what sent Karen Page up there in the first place?”

“Exactly. Karen told us that by the time they noticed the notification, an hour had already passed. But the autopsy report puts the time of death between 10:00 am to 11:00 am, a whole two hours before the notification was even sent, and three hours before Karen Page knocked on his door. Of course Karen could have gone up to Daniel Fisher’s room and killed him in between 10:00 and 11:00, and taken the food up later. She hadn’t clocked in yet and has no alibi for the period of time but-”

“The cell phone. You have to request room service from the cellphone!” Foggy’s heartbeat quickened and Matt gave him a nod. “Grumpy detective said they didn’t find a cellphone on Fisher’s body or in his room.”

“They searched Karen’s apartment and her stuff at the hotel. Didn’t find one then either.”

“Hmm, this is a fun version of Clue, but how does that help us? Or Karen? She still doesn’t have an alibi for that time period, and we have no security footage to say she wasn’t in the hotel. And on top of all of this, don’t you think that the detectives will have already figured this out?”

Matt sighed. “I overheard Detective Barton and his partner discussing it after we left the interrogation room. They’re fully aware of the importance of finding Fisher’s personal items, but I think for another reason.”

“This cult, right?” asked Foggy. “The one Daniel Fisher was reporting on. Maybe they’re looking for the report.”

“Most likely.”

“You’re  _ sure _ she’s telling the truth about not killing Fisher, Matt? I don’t want our first case to be a shot in the dark because you owe your super sexy ex a favor.” Foggy had scooted slightly closer to Matt, indicated by the rise in his body heat.

“I’m positive.”

His promise seemed to assure Foggy, who had shifted away again. Matt knew the second he walked in the concrete room that Karen Page was not guilty. Her heart beat was beating too fast, even for someone who was cold. Matt doubted that even with the air temperature at comfortable place, Karen would not have been radiating enough heat to register as guilty instead of just nervous. She spoke calmly, but with insistence, her words had feeling instead of hollowness. The more they pressed her, the more desperate she became, and the more convinced Matt became she was innocent.

“Well I don’t need to be blind and have weird x-ray skills to know that you think that finding the cellphone will clear Karen’s name.” Foggy whistled, interrupting Matt’s train of thought.

“Whoever finds the phone can trace the activity. Like you said, it’s a shot in the dark, but I think it could be a place to start.”

“Wait, what do you mean by whoever? Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Matt could practically hear his partner grinning from ear to ear.

“If Karen didn’t kill Daniel Fisher, then someone else had to. I don’t think this murder was random, either. The meal Karen delivered was Fillet Mignon with lemon zest, but Fisher was allergic to both. I think that-”

“Someone was after him. Probably the people he was investigating.”

Matt nodded in response. “Healthy Young Dependents Rallied Association isn’t the type for such a bloody display. Even with NYPD’s existing investigation shows that they take out their targets silently and dispose of the bodies upriver, not leave them in a pool of their own blood in one of the most regarded hotels in the northeast.”

“They probably wanted to send a message, one with shock factor. Stay out of our way or we’ll cut your head off.” hummed Foggy. The echo of Foggy’s fingers tapping the wood of the bar echoed in Matt’s ears.

_ But who is the message for? And why The Maria?  _ Matt wondered.

“So what do we do?” Foggy interrupted. “Until the police find Fisher’s phone or any of the guy’s stuff, we have little to build our case on.”

“ _ If  _ the police find it. If Healthy Young Dependents is really behind this, then the chances are slim they will, if NYPD’s three-year investigation is any record. If we have any hope of finding Fisher’s phone, then we’re - Karen - is going to need some extra help.”

“Oh God, Matt, please don’t tell me you want to get  _ her _ involved!” whined his partner.

“She can help us, Foggy.”

“That’s if she’s in a good mood.” Foggy cursed and asked for another drink. Matt didn’t stop him. “At least it will help Karen.”

“It’s the only reason I’d bring her in.”

Foggy hummed and tapped the bar again. “Okay, time to hold up your glass, bud. To Nelson and Murdock! And their first official case!”

“To Nelson and Murdock!”

**Now if only Nelson and Murdock realized they’d only scratched the surface. Because it can’t be** **_that_ ** **easy, can it?**

_

**If someone had told Pietro Maximoff that morning that his twin sister was pregnant with some stranger’s kid, he would have laughed his ass off. If they insisted, he would have told them to fuck off. Okay, so he didn’t tell Carol to fuck off when she called but he did say fuck. A lot.**

Pietro opened the door to Wanda’s apartment with a creak, trying his best not drop his twin. She’d fallen asleep in the car and when he tried to wake her up, she rolled over in the seat and cursed him in Sokovian. God, she looked a lot like their mom.

“I’m not letting you stay in the car, Wanda.” he told her because for some reason she couldn’t get up. She cursed again and muttered something about her feet hurting.

Pietro rolled his eyes, banging his head against the roof of his Camaro. He was exhausted, and not in the mood to deal with her moodiness. “If - shit - I don’t even know how to say this is Sokovian-” He quickly switched to English. “-if I give you piggy back ride will you come up stairs?”

Once he said this, she was suddenly awake and rolling back over. She nodded at him with those big glassy eyes, and Pietro found himself rolling his. “Okay, c’mon.”

With his sister on his back (damn, she was a lot heavier than he remembered), he couldn’t take the stairs so he had to get on the death trap that was the elevator. Inside there was crotchety old woman clutching a Chihuahua. The mangy thing growled at Pietro when he stepped in and tried to press the up button. Pietro huffed when he caught the glare of the old woman.

“She was staring too long, too.” he smirked at the old woman, bouncing a sleeping Wanda slightly on his back. The old woman’s mouth dropped open in disgust. The door opened to the fifth floor and she rushed out, her Chihuahua growling at Pietro. “Stupid rat.”

They reached the ninth floor, where Pietro struggled to open the door and stepped around piles of laundry, textbooks, and dirty dishes, towards her couch. He dropped her with a groan.

“Hope you enjoyed your last piggy ride, baby sister.” Pietro rubbed the back of his shoulder. “Not with you getting fat soon.”

The second the words left his mouth and Pietro knew he’d messed up. The look on Wanda’s pale face was of pure terror. He hadn’t seen her look so scared since…

_ You need to learn to think before you open your mouth, boy _ , the voice of his biological father echoed in his head. Wanda put her head in her hands, and Pietro took a seat next to her, just like she had a few weeks ago when he broke up with Crystal.

“I can make dinner.”

“I am not hungry.” She stood and began walking toward her room. “I need sleep. I have a big decision to make and just want this day to be over-”

“You need to tell Clint and Laura.”

“Pietro-”

“Wanda, this isn’t like Maine. If you don’t tell them, I will.”

“I don’t want to talk about this. Not right now.”

“Then when, Wanda? Are you just going to not talk to me about this?”

Wanda’s door slammed shut, and Pietro slumped onto the couch. He lay for a while, trying to shake his old man’s voice from his mind. He shouldn’t have opened his damn mouth, but no matter how hard he tried to wrap his mind around what happened, that Wanda was  _ pregnant _ , he couldn’t. And he sure as hell couldn’t picture himself as an uncle.

Something caught his eye and Pietro looked down to find a bottle of pills. “Wanda Maximoff” the white label read. It must have fallen out of her jacket when he dropped her on the couch.

Pietro then tried to distract himself from the sound of his sister’s snoring by playing games on his cellphone, but at some point in the night he must’ve fallen asleep because the next time he opened his eyes, his sister was not snoring anymore.

An awful gagging noise was coming from the bathroom, repeatedly.

“Shit -Wanda!”

In a split second, he was off the couch and bursting through the bathroom door. Wanda was on her knees, clutching the toilet with white knuckles, vomiting and spitting Sokovian curses that would’ve made their Eastern European parents blush.

He kneeled down beside her and tried to pull her hair out of her face. “Wanda?”

“Morning-” she gagged, and hurled again. “-sickness.”

_ Morning sickness? _ he thought to himself.  _ It’s the middle of the fucking night. _

Her chest heaved, and Pietro put a hand on her back. He felt so helpless that he could have punched his fist straight through the bathroom wall. “Oh, God.” Wanda heaved again. Pietro swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth, pulling her hair of the way.

“You’re right.” Wanda whispered, after a few more minutes of cursing and vomiting.

“Huh?” he stopped rubbing her back.

“I need to talk Clint and Laura.”

“Wanda-” he had to stop when she started to hurl into the toilet bowl. “Are you supposed to throw up this much?”

“I don’t know, Dr. Cho said if I kept the baby-” she gagged again before continuing, “I might experience some morning sickness, but she didn’t say it would be this soon. Oh, god…”

Sitting there as Wanda vomited her lunch into the toilet, Pietro had a sudden realization. He didn’t know  _ anything  _ about pregnancy or symptoms or babies or childbirth (ugh, now  _ he  _ wanted to vomit). For the first time, had no idea how to take care of his sister.

“What do you mean, if you keep the baby?” he asked, switching back to their native language.

She didn’t speak for a few seconds, but then she took a deep breath. “Dr. Cho gave me a prescription that will terminate the pregnancy.”

“You can do that?” Pietro ran his hand through his hair. She nodded slowly, and then started hurling again. Pietro looked away.

Well,  _ that  _ would solve their problems.

“So why don’t you just take the pill?”

Wanda turned away from the toilet and the glare in her eyes (the one she got from their Sokovian mother) made Pietro swallow. “You think this a game, Pietro? You think that I can just flip a coin and decide what to do?” She choked on her last few words like she was about to cry and Pietro’s chest constricted.

**You done messed up, son.**

“Hey, you know that’s not what I mean. But if you’re in so much damn pain, Wanda, then this isn’t worth it. I’m not going to watch you go through this. Not if there is something to do about it.” He handed her one the hundred washcloths lying on her bathroom floor, and she swiped her face.

“Before I make a choice, you’re right, I should talk to Clint and Laura. They deserve to know.” She sniffled.

“Wait,” Pietro smirked, “did you just say that I was right?”

“Yes, I did.” She smiled widely and burst into laughter. She even punched him in the shoulder. But then she glanced down at herself and spread her fingers over her stomach. “It really is a day for the unexpected.”

“I can text Laura, tell her we’re coming over tomorrow.”

“Really?” she looked up at him. Pietro swallowed again when he saw that the tears in her eyes were back.

“Yeah, why not? Laura might freak out less if I text her instead of you.” Wanda started to shake and he enveloped her tiny body in his arms. “Please tell me you’re so damn emotional because of this baby.”

Wanda laughed into his shoulder. “This will be the next nine months if I keep it, you know.”

Pietro groaned loudly and Wanda laughed some more. The angry feeling in his chest loosened. “You don’t have to do this alone, baby sister.” He whispered in Sokovian.

“Twelve. Minutes. Older. Pietro.”

“You can’t take this away from me, Wanda!”

Again, she was laughing into his shoulder, then, “Thank you, Pietro.” He didn’t respond.

He didn’t really have a chance to, because three seconds after she said it, Wanda was pushing herself off of him and hurling into the toilet again.

Pietro sighed. He was going to be here all night.

**And he was.**

_

**If we may, let’s take it back to one memory Wanda will never forget, eleven years ago when she first met her foster family.**

“Okay, kiddos, welcome home.” The man who was now her father - her  _ foster  _ father, she reminded herself - opened the door their new house. This was the man that had taken Wanda and her twin brother, Pietro from their homeland Sokovia and brought them to live with his family on the outer edge of New York City in the United States of America.

“Clint, is that you?” Wanda’s spirits lifted at the sound of her new foster mother’s voice. The woman, Laura, reminded Wanda of her mom. Laura had spent a whole two weeks with them while they waited for the visas needed to come to the states, and held Wanda when she awoke from nightmares of the hotel burning. “I thought your flight wasn’t going to come in until later. We would’ve come to meet you at the airport.”

Laura hugged her husband, who was smiling widely. He always smiled around Laura. “We wanted to surprise you.”

Behind Laura and Clint, Pietro stood blowing his brown hair from his face and shifting his feet back and forth. Wanda tried to stay standing upright, but since disembarking the plane, she’d been dizzy and her head hurt.

“Everyone here?” Clint asked, tilting his head so he could look into the house Wanda couldn’t quite see.

Laura smiled. “All in there, doing homework. “I think Tony is trying to help Steve and Nat with calculus, and I’m not even sure what Thor and Bruce are doing but I think they’re in The Loft.”

“Great.” Clint grumbled. “They’re probably going to burn it down. After I built those awesome new desks.”

“Well, come on in. I think I can warm up some leftovers for lunch.”

Wanda and Pietro tried to shuffle their way through the door, only to bump straight into each other.

_ “Clutz!” _

_ “Moron!” _

“Come on you two!” Clint ushered them into the biggest dining room Wanda had ever seen. She tried not gape, especially when she knew everyone in the room was watching her. There was a slender teenager with dark hair and thick eyebrows who had his legs on the shiny wooden table and was talking to another boy, this one with blond hair, who was bent over a book and a stack of paper. A girl with long red hair that reflected the lights of the room sat next to him reading  _ Paradise Lost _ . Wanda had always wanted to read that book.

“Tony, Steve, Nat,” Laura began. “I want you to meet Wanda and Pietro Maximoff.”

“Oh my god, you were serious when you said you guys were getting more.” The dark haired one rolled his eyes, not even looking up.

_ “Oh my God, Pietro, they didn’t tell us our new brothers and sisters were assholes.”  _ Pietro snorted at Wanda’s remarks.

The girl glanced up from her book. “What language are you speaking?”

“Pietro and Wanda are from Sokovia. Their first language is Sokovian, but I happen to know they speak English  _ fluently _ .” Clint glared at the two of them and Wanda shifted under his gaze.

The kid with dark hair uncrossed his legs and threw a pencil at the blond one. “Where the hell is Sokovia?”

“Where are your manners, Tony?” Laura demanded. Wanda looked up. She’d never heard Laura so angry. “Should we have turned you away when you needed help?”

Tony slammed his fist down and stood up from the table. In her periphery, Wanda saw Pietro took a step back. “Maybe you should have, Laura! Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this hell hole!” He stormed out, flipping the blond kid’s book closed and slamming the wooden door.

Laura put her head in her hands and Clint came to her side. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying, but he just - it hasn’t been easy since the car crash.” she whispered to her husband.

“It’s not your fault, Laura.”

Laura stepped to the side towards Wanda, giving her a big smile that stilled some of her nerves. “Hey, girlie. Enjoy your first real flight?” Suddenly, Laura was enveloping Wanda in a hug. She smelled like lavender and pine.

“It was okay. I am exhausted, though.”

Laura put a cool hand on Wanda’s forehead. “Clint, I think she might she running a fever.”

In a split second, both Pietro and Clint were by her side. Clint put the back of his hand on her forehead just like Laura had. “You’re burning up, kiddo. How come you didn’t say anything at the airport?”

Weakly, Wanda signed that she had been fine then, but that didn’t stop Clint from asking for her backpack and taking the suitcase from her grip. “Come on, kid. What did we say about not telling me when things are wrong?”

“That my needs are a priority and I should talk to you.” Wanda responded in English.

“Do you want some lunch, honey?” Laura stroked her cheek. “It might make you feel a little better.”

“I am fine, thank you. I ate at the airport.”

Pietro scoffed and poked her in the shoulder.  _ “Liar. You didn’t eat at the airport.” _

Well she had tried. But the McDonald's Clint had bought her and her brother had been the saltiest and greasiest meal she’d ever eaten, and couldn’t even finish her cheeseburger.

_ “Neither did you, idiot!” _

Laura didn’t look convinced, her gaze switching from Wanda to Pietro and back. “I think I just want to lay down.” Wanda told her, going back to English.

“Probably a good idea.” agreed Clint. He shouldered her bag and turned to the two others still sitting at the table. Laura did the same.

“Hey, Nat, do you want to show Wanda to your room?” Laura asked the girl with read hair.

“Sure.” The girl with red hair - Natasha - deadpanned, tossing  _ Paradise Lost  _ onto the dining table.

“Steve, you can show Pietro to his room.” Clint told the blond boy, and he stood immediately and came towards them.

He took both Pietro and Wanda’s hand and smiled brightly, showing perfect white teeth. “Hey, I’m Steve. Sorry about Tony, he’s been kind of an emotional wreck lately.”

“Wanda?” Natasha stood as well, indication with her head towards the door. “Are you coming?”

Clint ruffled Wanda’s hair, and Laura kissed her forehead. Wanda stumbled. For a moment… she was seven years old again, in the arms of Django and Marya Maximoff.

But Natasha called her name again, and Wanda’s spell was broken.

Pietro and Wanda followed Natasha and Steve up the wooden stairs. “Pietro you’ll have to bunk with Thor and Bruce in the attic. It’s the only place with enough space.”

“Uh, where do you sleep?” Pietro asked, the snark in his voice was enough to make Wanda elbow him in the chest.

“I room with Tony in the room next to Nat’s. He wanted to room with Bruce but Clint and Laura won’t let him because they’re afraid their experiments will set something on fire.” Steve explained.

“Experiments?”

“They’re into science.” answered Steve.

“And getting the rest of us killed.” Natasha added as they came up the final steps.

“Welcome to The Loft.” Steve gestured to the room before them. “The Loft” was an expansive room with a high ceiling and soft blue walls. Five desks that would have been identical if not for the varying piles of paper and laptops and notebooks on each stood against opposite walls. Dim light floated through a massive window and illuminated a grey sofa at the end of the room. “Clint will probably build you two desks when you start school.”

There was a pregnant moment of silence between the four of them. The throbbing in Wanda’s head was starting to get louder, before Steve added. “You know, you two are really lucky. There’s not a lot of really nice foster homes like this. And most foster parents are miles behind Clint and Laura-”

“Did I not tell you so, Bruce? Our massive contraption works!” a booming voice from down the carpeted hall interrupted Steve.

“ _ My  _ massive contraption works - don’t touch that Thor! It’s incredibly delicate!” responded another.

“Are you saying I cannot be delicate?”

“Not with your giant hands, no!”

“That would be Bruce and Thor.” sighed Steve. “Hey, guys get out here!”

From the hallway, a small disheveled boy emerged clutching what looked like to be a small mirror, followed be a much larger boy with long, almost gold hair. Wanda could feel her eye begin to twitch. Her brother was starting to play with the zipper on his suitcase.

“Oh, um, hi there-” the smaller one began but was interrupted when the other started to boom. “You two must be the twins Clint and Laura told us about!” Like Steve had, Thor took Wanda and Pietro’s hands to shake them, even when Pietro took a few steps back.

“Is that my mirror?” Natasha asked, her perfect eyebrows raised.

Bruce visibly swallowed and his cheeks reddened. “We needed it for the laser.”

“Just give it back when you’re done.” She flipped her hair back.

“Pietro will be rooming with you two in the attic,” Steve told him in a way that reminded Wanda of the Sokovian soldiers. “Try not to hurt him with whatever contraption you’ve got up there.”

Pietro’s eyes went wide and Wanda took a step closer to her brother. “Wanda will be rooming with Nat.”

“Oh, is that so?” Bruce raised a bushy eyebrow, turning to Wanda. “You know, she’s never had a roommate before, so don’t let her kill you in your sleep.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Fuck off, Banner.”

“Language, Nat.” Steve reprimanded.

**“** Swear jar! Swear Jar!” chanted Bruce and Thor.

Finally, after Natasha put a whole dollar in a little glass jar on Steve’s desk, Natasha led Wanda to her room. She was hesitant to leave Pietro’s side, but the bored look on her twin’s face told Wanda that he could most likely handle rooming with this Bruce and Thor.

Natasha’s room was small compared to the Loft, but bigger than her rooms in Sokovia and Genosha combined and a lot nicer smelling. There were two beds: one empty with the sheets and blankets folded at the end, and another with all the quilts, pillows, and stuffed animals in order and line like tiny soldiers. At the end of each bed, a wooden vanity stood. Bottles of lotion, perfume, and books with both Russian, English, and French titles lined Natasha’s vanity. Next to a mirror stand was pair of pink ballet shoes. A flare of jealousy made Wanda look away, only to see a poster of beautiful dancers hanging over Natasha’s bed.

“That side of the room’s yours. Don’t touch my things. If you touch them, then all the boys think they can too.” Natasha scolded her.

Wanda turned back around to tell her new foster sister thank you, but she was met with the door shutting in her face. Glancing around the large room, a new wave of exhaustion hit her, and without even taking her boots off or putting any of the sheets on the mattress, Wanda dropped her suitcase and laid down. In a matter of minutes, she was fast asleep.

When she awoke, the sunlight filtering from the room’s window was a deep orange and pink. Her head no longer throbbed and when she put her hand on her forehead, it was cool.

Wanda rubbed her eyes. How long had she been asleep? Where was she again? It smelled different in here. Oh, New York. With Clint and Laura and their family and Pietro.

_ Pietro! _

The thought of her brother made Wanda get up to open the door. She wanted to find Pietro, and maybe explore this new world, but she didn’t have look or go very far because when she whipped open the door, someone fell back flailing their arms straight through her doorway.

_ “Shit!”  _ her brother yelled in their native language. Wanda wondered if they’d have to put money in Steve’s swear jar if they cursed in Sokovian.

_ “Pietro! Were you spying on me?” _

Pietro sat up and rubbed his head. “ _ No!” _

_ “Then what were you doing sitting in front of my door?” _ Wanda crossed her arms, and glared at him.

_ “I was just - I was trying to-” _

“Dinner time!” Steve’s voice rang through the hall. “Has anybody seen Wanda and Pietro?”

_ “Ugh, I don’t want to go down stairs with them. Bruce and Thor yelled at me for ten damn minutes about not touching their stupid things. I don’t even want to touch their things. Their things are dumb. Steve called me Peter. What kind of fucking name is Peter?” _

“ _ Natasha yelled at me too. I don’t think she likes me.” _

Pietro rolled his eyes. “ _ Yeah, well I don’t think any of them do, but I don’t care. I don’t like them either.” _

“Pietro? Wanda?”

“ _ They’re looking for us. We should go downstairs or they will come and get us.” _

Pietro huffed but stood up and followed his sister down the stairs. Clint, Bruce, and Natasha sat at the dining table, lost in some discussion about airplane food. Steve was helping Laura bring in dishes.

“Oh good, you’re here!” Laura greeted each of them with a hug as they entered. Wanda stifled a laugh when Pietro tried to pull away from his. “I’ve got dinner ready! I wanted to try my hand at a Sokovian dish, but I couldn’t get all the ingredients in time because  _ somebody _ took an early flight!” Laura nudged the back of her husband’s chair.

“Guilty as charged.” He shrugged, but still smiled. “Feeling any better, kid?”

Wanda nodded, folding her hands in her sweater.

They ended up eating something called tater tot casserole, served with ketchup on top. It tasted better than the airport McDonalds and Wanda tried not to use the whole bottle of ketchup, but it’d been so many years since she had it. Steve talked with Laura and Bruce about the new school year, he, Natasha, and an absent Tony, had just entered their junior year together, and Bruce and Thor entered their senior year. Wanda was told she and Pietro were going to be sophomores, whatever was meant by that.

“Where is Tony anyway?” Bruce asked, barely looking up.

“He said he didn’t want dinner.” Steve answered.

Bruce looked up then, sending Wanda an indecipherable look. She shifted under his gaze and looked back at her plate.

The normal family conversation that had been absent from Wanda’s life for some many years continued, but came to halt when Wanda passed her leftovers to Pietro.

“Are you not hungry?” Laura asked. There was a hurt look in her eyes. Everyone was watching her, and waiting with wide expectant eyes. Her palms began to sweat.

“I - no - I mean the meal was wonderful and I am very grateful, but - I -” Wanda tripped over her words, swallowing a lump in her throat.

“There’s plenty of food here, Wanda. You don’t have to worry about it.” Clint told her. His tone was gentle and genuine, but Wanda couldn’t meet his eyes. A red blush crawled its way up her neck and her chest constricted.

“Wanda, come with me.” Laura spoke up. When Wanda looked at her, the hurt in her eyes was gone and she was smiling again. “There’s something I want to show you.”

She stood up and beckoned for Wanda to follow her through the wooden door into a small room. Clutter was everywhere: a bow and arrow was leaning against an old sewing machine, books kissed every shelf and were stacked in rickety piles on the floor. Wanda had to step over piles of fabric and cardboard boxes to get where Laura was pulling something out from drawer.

“Usually I have this done before you guys get here, but since there were two of you this time, I didn’t finish in time.”

Wanda asked, “What is it?”, trying not to stumble over her English.

“It’s a quilt for you! It’s not done though.” In Laura’s hands was a beautiful blanket sewn together from the most vibrant reds and dancing scarlets Wanda had ever seen. If she looked closely, she could see a garden of endless flowers embroidered in dark thread along the border. “You see when I was your age, I promised myself that I would do this for my children when they were born. But I never had any babies, so I decided to do it for all the kids we fostered. Nat, Tony, Steve, Bruce, Thor, they all have got one when they moved in.”

“It is my favorite color.” Wanda stood, dumbfounded. She longed to reach out and touch the fabric.

Laura nodded reverently, placing the beautiful creation in Wanda’s hands, she then turned a pulled out another quilt, this one a pale blue that reminded Wanda of the ocean. “This one’s for Pietro. But you can’t tell him, okay! It’s a surprise!”

The thought of Laura gifting Pietro a quilt lifted Wanda’s spirits. She could picture him acting indifferent about the blanket, because he was just that cool, but she knew her brother enough to know it would be his next prized possession and that he’d die before another soul laid a finger on it.

“What - why did you not have any babies?”

Laura chewed on her lip. “I did. Well sort of. I had three miscarriages. But it’s okay, because like I said, I got to have all of you guys!”

Wanda’s fingers played with the rim of her quilt. She had a blanket - a baby blanket - before the bombs destroyed her home. But it was not nearly as beautiful as this one.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean to make you cry!” Laura brought Wanda out of her thoughts. She could feel the hot tears running down her face. On her lips and tongue she could taste salt.

“I- I… I am so sorry!” Wanda finally burst out in sobs as she stood there clutching her gift. “About dinner - about everything-” then Laura was wrapping her up in her arms so that Wanda could bury her face in her shirt.

Laura began to rock back and forth, a motion that soothed Wanda. “I’m not upset, Wanda. Neither of us is upset. We understand how hard this is for you and we want you to take your time.”

They stood there for what felt like forever until Wanda ran out of tears. “You still have a fever.” Laura whispered after feeling Wanda’s forehead again.

Wanda handed Laura back the quilt. With her foster mother’s arm around her, she dragged her boots through the dining room. Pietro stood abruptly and bumped the whole table.

“Everything’s okay, Pietro. She still has a fever so I’m going to take her up to her room.”

Three weeks after the dinner incident, Laura officially gave Wanda and Pietro their finished quilts. Pietro did just what Wanda had expected, so when he shrugged nonchalantly and mumbled a quick thank you before walking off the quilt over his shoulder, she gave Laura a knowing smile.

Wanda would spend the next month and half memorizing every single detail of her quilt.

_

**But that was then, and this is now. And now is the car ride over to tell her foster parents she’s pregnant after she spent all of the previous two nights vomiting her guts out.**

Her mind kept going back to the memory of her meeting her foster parents... and every memory that followed after.

It was several months before Wanda could call the “Farmhouse” home and several more months before she could call any of her foster siblings her family. Slowly by slowly the purple walls from her side of the room she shared with Natasha became covered in her posters and pictures. Her vanity became covered in half empty bottles of perfume, pallets of eye shadow and broken eyeliner pencils, and minefield of jewelry she could never manage to untangle. Natasha would yell at her when she tripped over Wanda’s quilt and clothes and guitar. Wanda told her foster sister she’d stop leaving her stuff around if Natasha stopped turning on  _ every _ light in their room when she got up at six in the morning for ballet practice.

The ice never thawed between her and Natasha, and things to this day remained rocky between her and Tony as well as Bruce. But Wanda found it easier to get along with Steve and even Thor, who surprisingly got along with everyone. And while most of them were walking train wrecks, Steve managed to never unpack his foster kid baggage and acted always like an older brother. She and Pietro wasted hours in the Loft with all of them, doing homework and playing video games. Wanda laughed to herself, tapping the window again. None of them never could beat her high score on Just Dance, not even Natasha, Juilliard scholarship and all. 

She swallowed the bile in her mouth that was reminiscent of last night. The nausea that came from the notion of telling her foster siblings she was pregnant was enough to rival her morning sickness - but it was nothing compared to how much she wanted to throw up right now.

“I don’t want to tell Laura.” she told her brother in Sokovian. They were stopped at red light, about to turn onto the street that would take them to edge of the city.

Pietro sighed. “That’s what you said yesterday, so we didn’t do it yesterday. Wanda, I can’t afford to take another day off so if you want me to do this with you, we have to do it today.”

“Why do we have to drive up there? Why can’t we just call or skype?”

“I said the words ‘Wanda has news’ and since you haven’t called in three months, Laura kind of lost it, so to calm her down I promised we would come up there and have lunch or something.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “What’s your problem anyway?”

Wand sunk lower into her seat. “I just don’t think I can tell her. Not after-”

“Not after what?”

But Wanda didn’t respond, and the two spent the rest of the drive in silence. Pietro pulled up into the driveway next to Clint’s police cruiser.

“What’s Steve’s bike doing here?” Wanda’s heart stopped.

“Maybe he stopped for lunch-”

“ _ Seriously,  _ Pietro. What did you do?”

“Nothing!” He put his hands up in surrender. “I swear to God-” but he couldn’t finish as Wanda was opening the Camaro and stepping out.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Pietro was there the second she shut her and putting his arm around her. Wanda swallowed, trying not to gag or give to the urge to run far away from him and his smell. “Pietro, don’t you ever take a shower?”

“When you buy something other than Quenching Coconut Curls I promise I will.” He smirked, switching to English, and leading her through the screen door. The real one was open, waiting for the two them. “Which is stupid because you hog the bathroom every morning straightening it-”

“Aunt Wanda!” a voice interrupted Pietro, and then Wanda was being knocked over by something that had come barreling down the hallway.

“Cassandra! Hey piglet!” Wanda scooped up her niece - or the closest thing she had to one - Cassie and kissed her on the cheek. She could hear the sounds multiple voices, including the sound of Cassie’s father, her youngest foster brother, coming from the foyer. Her anxiety shot up into her lungs like acid.

_ “Can’t be a mother, my ass. _ ” Pietro whispered, leaning against the wall.

“ _ Jackass. _ ”

“You’re talking in that funny language again.” Cassie giggled and Wanda pinched her cheek.

“Is your dad here?”

“Yeah he’s in the living room with Hope and Uncle Steve and Sam and Grandpa and Grandma. We’re watching Scooby Doo!” Wanda set her niece down, who took her hand and led her down the steps into the living room. Steve sat on one of the couches talking to Hope, Scott’s girlfriend and Wanda’s close friend. Steve’s partner from work, who’d known Wanda since she was 24, Sam Wilson, sat on the other side of Steve flipping grapes in his mouth and then at Clint, who caught them without even glancing up from his arm chair. Here everyone was, all munching on a plate of Laura’s cheese and crackers and watching the stupid live movie of Scooby Doo.

It was all Wanda had in her not to turn around and punch her brother. Pietro stood behind her running his hands through his silver hair, avoiding her glare.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Cassie ran across the living room to where her father Scott was standing. “Wanda’s here!”

“She  _ is _ , Peanut! She still exists!” Scott Lang was the last of the Barton foster children. Clint found him robbing an apartment and brought him home when Wanda and Pietro were seventeen, a year after Bruce and Tony had left for college and Thor went back to Norway. A year younger than Wanda and Pietro, they’d become close despite Scott constantly going back to crime. When his daughter Cassandra was born, Scott turned his whole life around, and was recruited by Van Dyne Couture as a model, where he met his girlfriend Hope. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Cassie was starting to get worried.”

“I am sorry. I have been busy with school and work.”

“Why is everyone here? I thought it was going to be you and Laura. Hell, I was hoping for only Laura.” Wanda heard her brother whisper to Clint.

“Hey, Scott was already bringing Cassie over. Laura heard Wanda had some announcement to make so she invited Steve over. I’m not sure why Sam came.” Clint shrugged, and took a sip from his coffee mug.

“Pass up Laura’s cooking? Nah, man, you got the wrong guy.” Sam smiled and tossed another grape in his mouth.

“Detective jokes, ha, that’s funny. Never heard that one before.” sighed Clint, then turned to Wanda. “What about you, kiddo?”

“Well, I do not have any detective jokes.” She laughed, hugging her foster father.

“Good, cause then I’d have to ask you to leave.”

“And we wouldn’t want that.” Another voice from behind her. Wanda looked up to see her foster mother, wearing her bright pink scrubs, entering from the kitchen. “Hey girlie.”

“Cassie, I’m gonna turn the TV off okay?”

“Okay!”

“Hey, Laura.” Laura enveloped her in her small arms. She smelled strongly like the hospital, and Wanda’s stomach flipped.

“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods after so long.” Laura stepped away from her embrace and smiled.

Wanda thought she was going to choke, or vomit, or something but she could not find her voice. All she could feel, all she could think about, was the look on her foster mother's face. All she could picture was a look of betrayal. The tendrils of panic became to slither through Wanda’s lungs, until-

“Wanda has some important news you need to hear.” Pietro told them for her.

Wanda didn’t miss the immediate change in her foster parents. They stood up straighter, took a step closer together, and exchanged a look. Swallowing, Wanda felt her feet taking her backwards.

_ “I can’t do this, I can’t do this to them, to her.”  _ Wanda looked at her brother. He stood with his arms crossed, nodding his head.

_ “Yes, you can, and you will, Wanda.”  _ He responded, everyone’s eyes on the two of them as they spoke Sokovian. When she didn’t speak, he sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “ _ Dammit, Wanda! Everyone is here, not at work, because they are worried about you and if you don’t tell them you’re just wasting their time. You were the one who said they deserve to know-” _

“I’m pregnant.”

Once the words had slipped from her mouth, she realized what she had done. Steve dropped a plate of crackers, and Sam started choking on a grape. Scott and Hope stood. Wanda watched the unwavering look of shock on her foster’s parents faces. Her stomach plummeted.

“How did this happen?”

“Is this why you’ve been gone for the past three months?”

“Is it boy or a girl?”

“How many months are you?”

“Sam, she wouldn’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet! Wait, do you?”

Wanda grit her teeth and turned back to Pietro. “ _ This is why I wanted to tell only Laura and Clint.” _

Pietro only put his head in his hands.

“I can explain all of this!” she spoke up, putting a stop to the flurry of questions “About two weeks ago I went to the gynecologist. It was supposed to be a pap smear.”  _ Deep breath…1…2… _ “but there was some confusion, and the doctor thought it was an IUI, an-”

“Intrauterine Insemination.” Laura finished for her. She wasn’t looking at Wanda.

Blinking away tears, Wanda continued. “They inseminated me with a stranger’s sperm and now I am pregnant with his child.”

“Who is he? This stranger?” asked Steve, his voice stoic and unwavering.

“His name is Vincent Anderson. We, uh, he actually works at the hotel. He is the new manager.”

“Vincent Anderson?” Clint responded, his eyebrows raised. “Why does that name ring a bell-”

“He’s no one!” Wanda interrupted.

“Does this guy know?” asked Hope.

Biting her lip, she answered, “He does, but I have not spoken to him yet. The doctor called and told him they inseminated me.”

There was this moment as she lay on the bathroom floor the first night, waiting for her stomach to want to erupt, Pietro starting to complain about his ex _ again _ , when Wanda felt the flutter of bravery. So she didn’t call into work sick, but picked herself up off the tile when morning came and got in the Camaro because she wanted to talk to Vince - alone. It’d been more than 24 hours by that point, so Dr. Cho would’ve had enough time to call and tell him. Wanda expected he’d be there, standing by the bar looking for her.

Only when Wanda walked in,  _ The Maria  _ was a flurry of chaotic reporters, flashing lights, and curious bystanders and no matter where she looked, Vincent Anderson was nowhere to be found. Carol sent her home after her search fell short (“What are you even looking for?” she’d demanded) and after hearing about her morning sickness. There was no work to be done for the waitress, and Wanda staying wouldn’t help Karen, Carol told her. Pietro came to get her and to take her up to the Farmhouse, but by then the bravery was gone and her stomach hurt again. She wanted nothing more than to go back to her apartment.

Wanda planned to speak with him when she went in for work this afternoon. For as much anger and hurt that resurfaced from high school since seeing him, he still deserved to know she might not keep the pregnancy.

Steve broke her train of thought. “What do we know about him? How old is he? Is he married? Does he have any kids already?”

“Steve, maybe back off of the questions.” warned Clint.

“No it’s fine.” Wanda waved Clint off. “He’s only a year older than me, I do not know if he’s married-”

“God, I hope not, that would make this mess even harder to clean up.” Scott joked.

**And we wouldn’t want that, would we?**

“And no, he has no other children. To my knowledge, I am carrying his only child.”

Wanda looked up. Laura stood unmoving, her arms crossed and her face unreadable.

“What about you, little Red?” Sam asked from his place on the couch.

“Huh?”

“What are your thoughts on this?” he smiled at her. Sam was a like surrogate brother to Wanda, more so than Tony or Bruce ever were. Like Steve, he had served overseas and worked at the VA, which was  where he and Steve met.

Wanda shuffled her feet. “The doctors gave me a choice. I can either keep it - the baby” she quickly corrected herself, “or they gave me a pill that will terminate the pregnancy.”

What followed was muffled whispers, before Steve stood and spoke up. “You should take the pill.”

“What?” gasped Scott, trying to stand as well but failed, as Cassie was in his lap. “Why should she do that?”

“Because she’s not ready!” Steve shook his head.

Taking a step away from Laura, Clint asked him. “What makes you think she’s not ready?”

“Wanda’s is perfectly capable of doing this.” Hope said, glaring at Steve. Wanda’s fingers were going numb and heart was drumming in her ears. Why wasn’t Laura saying anything?

“It’s not that’s Wanda’s capable, it’s just that Wanda shouldn’t have to carry somebody else’s kid! If she’s going to have a baby, it should be hers!” argued Sam. Hope rolled her eyes, and Cassie copied her actions.

Steve noddedand gestured to Sam. “Exactly! Wanda isn’t ready to carry someone else’s baby, or anyone’s, and Wanda-”

“-is in the room and can speak for herself!”

**You go, girl.**

Wanda stomped her foot, on the brink of tears once more. Again, everyone’s eyes looked to her, and the anxiety in her lungs and the nausea in her stomach made it all too much. Her fingers curled, her vision blurred, and she tried to count to ten in her head.

_ One…two…3…4…breathe…five…six… _

“Well?” Sam asked expectantly, breaking her conscience.

She threw up her hands. “I- I- I’m sorry, I need to- I need to be alone.”

Holding herself by the arms, not looking at all of her loved ones, Wanda marched to the kitchen. She swallowed the bile in her mouth. She would not vomit now, not when everyone could still hear her from the living room - she could hear their voices echoing off the wooden floor. Wanda would not let it - this baby - rule her right now.

… _ five…six…seven….breathe…eight…nine…breathe… _

Not when it was ruling everything else.

_

**Things the Wanda’s foster siblings are good at:**

  * **Playing favorites with their siblings.**
  * **Hiding their emotional baggage**
  * **Disagreeing on practically everything.**



**Things the Wanda’s foster siblings are bad at:**

  * **Accepting the rest of their siblings**
  * **Coping with said emotional baggage**
  * **Arguing about that stuff in a** ** _civil_** **manner**



Steve would be the first to admit he shouldn't have said anything, but he could see from Wanda's pale face and wide eyes just how terrified she was. Knowing Wanda, and seeing her scared, Steve knew his little sister wasn't ready to have a baby

“Good job, everyone.” declared Pietro with a roll of his eyes. Steve inwardly grimaced.

“I’m going to talk to her.” Steve decided and turned towards the kitchen.

“No. You have all done enough.” Pietro pushed past Steve and their foster parents. Everyone exchanged a look, but no one followed Pietro into the kitchen.

“Is this even possible?” Scott started the second Sokovian could be heard coming from the kitchen. “Because it sounds like something from a TV show.”

“Is there a chance she's lying about all this? That she is just trying to cover up getting knocked up?” wondered Sam, twirling a cracker in his hands.

Laura shook her head, her eyebrows furrowed in offense. “Wanda's not that eccentric. Or irresponsible.”

“What about what happened in Maine?”

“What happened in Maine has  _ nothing  _ to do with this.” Her tone borderline furious, Laura took a step forward.

“Is that why you think she’s not ready?” asked Clint.

“No it's just-”

“It’s just what?” Hope crossed her arms.

Cassie climbed into Hope’s lap and crossed her arms just as she did. “Yeah it’s just what?” She giggled.

“You think she’s too irresponsible?” Clint raised his eyebrows.

“Or not going to be a good mother?” Laura put a hand on Clint's shoulder, staring Steve down. “Because-”

“She's just a kid!” Steve burst out. Cassie whimpered and burrowed herself in Hope. Shaking her head, Laura turned away.

“Wanda’s way too young.” He explained after taking a deep breath. “She hasn't even finished college, how is she going to find a job without a degree? Because she can't support a child working as a waitress.”

Scott stood suddenly. “Wait a minute, I was 22 when Cassie was born! And I've done pretty good job as a dad, right Peanut?”

“Yeah! He eats Playdough!” Cassie beamed at her father, and Hope snickered.

“Really?” Sam asked, his eyebrows raised.

“It - it's” stuttered Scott, “It makes her laugh, okay?”

“It's different with you and Cassie, Scott. Cassie's mom was the one who was pregnant with her, not you.” Steve continued.

“He has a point, Scott.” Hope agreed, looking back and forth between Steve and her boyfriend. “You got lucky enough to find a job and pay child support.”

“Exactly.”

“Hey!”

“However, you can't just ignore that Scott turned his whole life around after Cassie was born. He hasn't been back to prison, even after hanging out with Luis and Mystery Inc over there.”

“I thought you liked those guys!”

Steve stroked his chin, but it was Sam who beat him to the punch. “I thought this was a conversation about Wanda, not Tic Tac here.”

“That's just my point, Sam.” sighed Hope. Cassie tilted her head and sighed too.

“What, that Wanda was irresponsible and is going to prison?” Sam raised his eyebrows again, tossing a handful of grapes in his mouth.

Hope rolled her eyes. “No. My point  _ is  _ if Scott can do it, then of course Wanda can.”

“She's a hell of a lot more responsible.” gruffed Clint.

“Hey! This is offensive!”

“Are we forgetting what happened in Maine?” Steve threw his hands in the air.

“I said we're not talking about it.” Laura almost shouted. “And don't you  _ dare  _ bring it up with her, Steven Grant.”

Steve swallowed. It felt like everyone in the room swallowed, too, under Laura's presence. Her arms were crossed and she held her chin high before speaking. “She’s your _ sister. _ Foster or not, your job is supporting whatever decision she makes. If she doesn’t keep the baby, then fine, we’ll put this whole mess behind us. But, if she keeps the baby, you’re all going to take it with a grain of salt and be fantastic uncles, understood?”

“What if we’re not a part of this family?” Sam raised his hand.

“You eat all our food.” Clint told him. “You’re buying gifts for the baby shower.”

“Fair enough.” Sam shrugged.

“I still feel like she shouldn’t keep it.” Steve said, shaking his head. “It’s not even hers.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Steve.” Hope shook her head. “But I think that whether or not she keeps the baby, she needs to sue the doctor.”

“For what?” asked Sam.

“Malpractice. Listen, I’m having a hard time believing the story that the doctor’s just mixed her appointment. Something’s going on behind the scenes; I don’t know, maybe somebody was drunk, but-”

A clash of plates and the swish of the screen door slamming interrupted Hope. Pietro returned running his hands through his hair again.

“She is upset. Very upset.” He let out a huff of air. “She slammed the door on me. For the second time.”

“Is she out on the porch?” asked Clint.

“Think so. She can’t leave, I am her ride.” Pietro answered, then took out his cellphone from his jacket pocket. “Shit, we have to leave in fifteen minutes if she wants to make it to work.”

“Swear jar!” Sam yelled and Cassie shouted “I heard that!”

“Seriously, how do you work with kids?” Hope questioned, Cassie still giggling and waving her fairy wand at Pietro.

Once Pietro had deposited a quarter (“C’mon Maximoff, that one was worth at least 75!” “My ass is broke!” “That’s another quarter, Maximoff!”) Steve asked, “Should I go talk to her?”

Laura sighed. “Listen, Steve, I know you mean well, and I know you’re just looking out for her, but Wanda probably has a million things on her mind right now and she doesn’t need the doubt.”

“I told her to take the pill the other night.” Pietro ran his hands through his hair again. “She looked at me with that glare-”

“ _ The _ glare?” Sam straightened up and was immediately pointing at Pietro.

“Yeah, I thought she was going to kill me.”

“You don’t think she should keep the baby?” Laura, tilting her head, asked Pietro.

For a millisecond, a dark shadow passed over Pietro’s face. “She has vomited for two nights straight now. She sits there, and she cries, she is in so much pain. I sit with her, for hours, holding her hair back, and she just keeps vomiting.”

“So what should we do?” Hope asked, breaking the silence. Cassie hopped down from Hope’s lap and jumped into Pietro’s, who bounced her up and down as she crowned him with her plastic princess tiara.

“I’ll go talk to her.” Clint stood and grabbed his mug of coffee off the table. Nodding, Laura whispered something in his ear, and he made for the kitchen.

It was quiet it for a few more minutes, until Cassie asked “Can we turned Scooby Doo back on?”

“Sure thing, little Lang.” declared Sam, reaching for the remote. “I wanna see what happened to Velma!”

Steve smirked as Laura rolled her eyes.

_

**So yeah, in Clint Barton’s career as a FBI agent and then as a detective, he’d seen a lot of weird, crazy, straight-out-of-Law-and-Order things and not a lot was new to him. But this - his foster daughter getting pregnant from some weird medical mix up - yeah,** **_that_ ** **was new.**

“Hey, kiddo.” Clint pushed the screen door open with his shoulder. Wanda was staring out into the backyard, and wiped her eyes hurriedly before turning to him.

“Hey.”

Clint gestured to the porch swing she was rocking back and forth on. “Can I sit?”

She nodded, smiling weakly.

“Coffee?” He asked, and offered her his mug.

“Decaf?”

“Decaf?” he sputtered. “Decaf - who are you and what have you done with Wanda?”

This brought a smile to her face and she laughed. “This Wanda’s pregnant and her body is not hers anymore.”

“Oh, oh yeah. Sorry, I sort of faintly remember that with Laura. We never got really far though.”

“How is she?” Clint was glad his hearing aids were on full power, because Wanda’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“How is Laura?” Clint was dumbfounded. “Laura’s worried about you, kiddo. We’re all worried about you. I mean we sound like jackasses but-” Wanda laughed again, “-we’re worried about you.”

“I did not want to tell her. Or anyone, if I’m being honest.” She whispered, again.

“Why not?”

Wanda shrugged, looking down at where hand was on her torso. After a second she admitted “It makes it real.”

Clint sighed and took a long sip of his coffee. “You know, I knew this private investigator a couple years ago, and she used to say whenever some terrible murder or rape or tragedy was brought to the justice system,”

Wanda nodded for him to continue. “Yeah?”

“Knowing it’s real means you gotta make a decision. One, keep denying it, or two, do something about it.”

“And where is she now?” asked Wanda.

“Oh, you know, she’s got terrible alcohol problems and can’t get along with people, so…”

Wanda laughed again, and the tension in Clint’s shoulder dissolved. “So, what’s it gonna be, kiddo? Sit on your ass and keep denying it, or get up and make a decision?”

“I guess we will see.” Wanda sighed, looking back and forth between him and the ground. “I have to talk to Vince before anything is decided.”

“Okay, who is this guy and where do I know him from?”

“You don’t.” Wanda responded, almost too quickly. Clint narrowed his eyebrows, but he decided to let it go. Wanda went back to staring at the yard.

“Hey, this might cheer you up.” Clint dug around in his jacket and pulled out a gift card. “This wannabe lawyer was trying to bribe me for cases. Gave me a five-dollar gift card to Starbucks. You want it? You can get decaf there, I’m pretty sure.”

“What can you get at Starbucks for five dollars, Clint?” she asked, the ghost of a smile on her face.

“I dunno. I’m always getting Grande anyway.”

“Does this mean you are on Karen’s case?” asked Wanda, still whispering.

“Yeah.”

“You know Karen didn’t kill that man, right?” she insisted. “She’s kind and sweet and would not hurt anyone - or anything-”

“Wanda, Wanda, calm down. We’re going to do everything we can to help your friend, but right now-” he put a hand on her shoulder, “You need to be thinking about yourself. Karen will be fine, okay?”

Taking a deep breath, Wanda stood up from the porch swing. “I need to get going. I have to make a decision, right?”

“Yes you do. And you probably need to step in and save your brother before Cassie starts putting lipstick on him.”

Wanda scoffed, but she smiled. “He would deny it to the grave, but he loves it. Men.”

“Yeah, they’re the worst.”

“Thank you, Clint.” She whispered.

“Course, kiddo.” He took another sip of his coffee. “Anything you need.”

_

“I can do this, I can do this, I can do this-”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Myself, Carol.” Wanda replied. 

Carol smirked, crossing her arms. “What about?”

“Nothing,” Wanda glared at her. “Ignore me.”

“Whatever you say, Maximoff.”

Pietro had driven Wanda to the hotel shortly after she’d rescued him from Cassie’s plan to paint his nails (Wanda knew he would have agreed to in a heartbeat) and the live Scooby Doo movie. Clint had given Wanda all the bravery she’d needed to face Vince, and tell him the truth. She’d told Laura, she’d told the rest of her foster family, she could tell the father of this baby with ease.

Right?

Carol and Wanda stood at the bar cleaning glasses. Quill and Gamora nowhere to be found, and the restaurant eerily quiet. Wanda shivered. Her mind wandered to Karen, and what she must be feeling. Scared was her first bet. According to Carol, Elektra had reached out to a lawyer who owed her a favor to represent Karen. There had yet to be any news - to anyone - regarding Karen’s status.

“Have you seen Vince - Mr. Anderson?”

“Not today, no.” Carol shook her head, but then a sly smile crossed her face. “Why, you planning to hook back up with him?”

“No! No! Definitely  _ not _ !”

“Then what’s up?” asked Carol.

“I just need to see him about… getting some vacation days. For doctor’s appointments and such…” Wanda twirled her thumbs, praying to any god listening that Carol would not see through her.

“So are you keeping it?” Carol questioned. She stared straight at Wanda’s stomach. Suddenly the placebo weight returned.

“I do not know yet. But better safe than sorry.”

“Makes sense.” Carol shrugged, and Wanda breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“Please tell me you guys are doing something more interesting than folding towels for housekeeping.” Jubilee, another  _ Maria  _ waitress, came up to them, popping her gum.

“Wanda’s looking for Vince - sorry, Mr. Anderson.” Carol mocked as she leaned over the bar. Wanda could have smacked the smirk off her proud face.

“Oh? V-man?” Jubilee pointed behind her with another pop of her gum. “I think I saw him head for the outdoor pool a few minutes ago? Why, wanna get back at him for ditching you at prom?”

“Did you tell everyone about that?” Now Wanda really wanted to hit Carol.

Carol let out a laugh. “Hell, honey, it almost made the Bernard Board!”

“Oh, God.”

“Go get him. Maximoff.”

Wanda’s s aching feet carried her away from Carol and Jubilee, and out the restaurant. _ One, two, three, four, breathe, _ she thought to herself as she walked.  _ Five, six, seven, breathe,  _ she could do this, she’d faced losing her parents to a bomb raid, faced four years of hell in Genosha, and three years in the American foster system, she could talk to her old high school crush because she had been inseminated with his child.  _ Eight, nine, ten, breathe,  _ and before she knew it, Wanda was standing outside in the September warmth. Vince was there, but his back was to her.

**Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for…. (drum roll please)**

“Yes, I understand the media’s outrage. No, I believe there is nothing I can do about it!”

Oh. He was on the phone. Wanda began twirling her thumbs. She could turn around and do this later-

“If Ms. Page’s lawyers see the danger in having her make a statement then I have to agree with them, whoever they are. No good can come of  _ The Maria  _ making a statement either. Then tell them we will return said phone call as soon as it is convenient. Thank you. Yes, I understand, now goodbye.”

He turned around after hanging up, and Wanda swallowed. This is the first time she had seen him, truly seen him, since the night of the Gala.

The memory of a tall, skinny teenager with his strawberry blonde hair Wanda had kept in the back of her mind for ten years was incorrect. Here he was taller (if such thing was even possible). His chest was sculpted and Wanda felt like tracing every muscle in his-

_ Maximoff! Focus! Get your pregnancy hormones out of the gutter. _

But for Wanda, the most surprising development is that his hair was gone. The night of the Gala, he had been wearing a black hat and she hadn’t or would not have noticed. Not that she was looking, of course. Now she could see he was completely bald.

Already, he was starting to make his way past her, and the words spilled out of Wanda before he could.

“Mr. Anderson, I was wondering if you had a moment to-”

“I apologize Miss Maximoff,” - He remembered her name? - “but I am afraid I am too busy at the moment and it will have to wait.”

Wanda’s stomach plummeted.

“I can promise you we are doing everything in our power to help Ms. Page, and-”

That’s what he thought this was about? Karen? So he didn’t…  _ Breathe, Maximoff, breathe! _

“-once we have news from the police will inform the staff immediately-”

“Did they not tell you?” Wanda practically shouted, the second her bravery and voice collided.

Vince froze, his back still facing her. “Did they not tell me what?”

“I am her. I’m the mother of- of-”

He turned around and there was look of shock on his handsome ( _ Dammit, Wanda!) _ features. Staring her up and down, and then up and down again, it was as if he was trying to make sense of how she was there, telling him this.

“The baby I am carrying, it is _ yours _ .”

Wanda wanted to scream. She wanted to scream at him, at the doctor, at anything. How could they not have told him? Did this mean he did not know a single thing? It occurred to Wanda that maybe he did when he gestured to the pool chairs on the patio. As soon as she had taken a seat, she asked “They told you about the insemination, no?”

“Yes, they did. Dr. Cho called me about two days ago, I would have...” he gestured to her. Wanda could hear the slight frustration in his voice “I would have reached out to you but-”

“They did not tell you it was me?”

“No unfortunately. I would’ve contacted you immediately.” insisted Vince. There was this look in his eyes, and Wanda felt seventeen all over again. He had the bluest eyes. She didn’t even think such a color was even human.

Silence in the heat enveloped them. Wanda crossed legs and then uncrossed them again. Then crossed them. She crossed her fingers and looked up at the veranda. Finally, she ventured a glance at the man sitting next to her and said the first thing that came to mind.

“I am sorry about the other night.”

“I’m sorry?” the shock returned to his face, and his pale eyebrows shot up.

“The Gala. I spilled champagne on your-” she gestured to his chest with two of her fingers and sent him looking and grabbing at his dress shirt. Today it was gold color that reflected the sunlight. Wanda swallowed.

“Oh! Oh, I assure you Miss Maximoff there was no harm done to me or my-” he gestured to his chest, then looked up at her and smiled. “It is perfectly fine. It was an accident, Miss Maximoff.”

Looking away, the voice of doubt started to creep through her head again. She bit her lip, and the words fell out. “I used to go N.J. Fury High school. It’s… it’s where we know each other from.”

 “Oh…” An indiscernible look replaced the shocked one on Vince’s face. He put his head in hands. “Yes, yes N.J-”

“You do not have to pretend like you remember-”

“No, I do. I remember. I remember you. Very clearly now.” He looked at her, earnest as ever. “We were counselor aids together, for Mrs. Harkness. I remember you despised me at first.”

Wanda nodded, biting back a smile.

“We had health together, as well, and AP World History.” remarked Vince.

“It was the only class I had higher grades than you.”

Vince let out a laugh. “That must have a been a feat in and of itself.”

Under the veranda, Wanda’s chest constricted. They were sitting so close the tips of their shoes were almost touching. Little by little, she her foot backwards.

“And then,” Vince was saying, no longer look at her, “I asked you to prom, didn’t I?”

Wanda didn’t respond.

“But I myself never attended the dance. I left you there and never contacted you after.” His voice was deeper, and he was clutching a silver ring on his right hand. Right hand, Wanda made a mental note.

“It was a long time ago.” She told him but Vince shook his head.

“Still, I should have apologized. In the past week I’ve been trying to find you to speak with you but it would seem our schedules don’t intersect.”

“Yes.” Wanda nodded, trying to keep her voice straight. “I guess that’s it.”

**When really it was:**

**_Five days ago_ **

“Hey Abigail Williams, what are you doing under my bar?”

“Shhh! Shut up Quill! I don’t want anyone to know I’m here!”

“Here hiding under  _ my  _ bar?”

“Shush! I need to be here for only a few-”

“Peter, how are you today?”

“I’m fine, V-man. Just a little…vermin problem.”

“Oh, should I call an exterminator?”

“Nah, Vince. I can take care of it.”

“Ow!”

“Oh well, if it gets worse don’t hesitate to come find me. Have a good day, Peter.”

“You too, V-man!”

“Is he gone?”

“Yes, Maximoff- hey where you are you going?”

“Bye, thank you so much Quill!”

“You’re chicken, Maximoff!”

**Back at the pool and in the present…**

“I suppose my apology for leaving you stranded at prom is long overdue, Miss Maximoff. It is no excuse, but the night of the dance there was a family emergency that stole my attention. I should have contacted you. There is nothing I can do to make up for it now, but I apologize.”

Again, Wanda bit her lip. “I am not ready to be a mother.”

Vince put out his hand. “I could-”

“No.” Wanda stopped him. “I can’t hear that you would take it from me. I couldn’t just throw my child on another person, even if they are the father, while I live the rest of my life knowing my baby is out there. That I could be walking through Manhattan one day and pass them on the street, and they would not even know?” Taking a ragged breath, Wanda swallowed the sob fighting its way through her throat.

“You are not going to keep it, then?” he asked- almost the second she stopped talking. She noticed he was no longer sitting up straight, or looking at her.

“I know the reasons for me wanting to terminate the pregnancy are so  _ incredibly  _ selfish, being that I’m not prepared and I am still in school and that I work here,” she gestured to  _ The Maria _ , “as a waitress and because I have worked every second so that the lives of my future children were not like my own. We - I was an accident, a mistake who ended up in the foster system because no one wanted us. And I know the family who took us in loves me and would do anything for me, but I also know that in some ways I have been an incredible burden on them. And that guilt is not something I want my baby to feel. Ever. I want - I need to be prepared.”

Vince was silent in the seconds that followed and when he spoke next his voice was no longer warm, but almost cold. “I understand, Miss Maximoff, and so will leave this in your hands.” He stood then like it was nothing- just two strangers who happened upon some meeting-  and started to walk back to the glass doors, avoiding eye contact with her. An eternity passed as Wanda kept her eyes straight listening to the click of his shoes. This was not fair. None of this was fair. Not for her. Not for him. Not for it.

“Wait!” Wanda found herself calling for him again.

“Yes, Miss Maximoff?” replied Vince. He did not turn back around.

“Even though I do not feel ready, I have not made any decisions…yet.”

He spun around, as fast as Pietro did, and was standing in front of her. “Oh, of course. If you need a few days to decide that is perfectly alright. You can contact me at - or you could of course come see me. I have a suite here - at the hotel, you can come by when you have made your decision. Let me write down the number of the suite, if I can locate my pen…I am afraid it’s gone missing…” Vince was talking so fast and there was so much hope in his voice, that Wanda couldn’t help but laugh.

“Here, you can use mine.” She handed him the marker she used to take orders. Vince took it, and looked in all his pockets - twice - for something to write it on until Wanda swallowed her giggles and held out her palm. “You can write it on my hand if you want.”

“Would that be okay?” He looked at her with his inhuman blues eyes. Wanda wanted to laugh again despite the angry guilt in her lungs. 

“Yes, it’s fine.” She smiled. “It is permanent so it will not wash off.”

He took her hand and scribbled his suite number on it. The marker tickled and his fingers felt warm on Wanda’s arm. Taking a step back, he added “Yes, indeed it is…permanent.”

Once Vince had given her the marker back, his phone began to ring so he excused himself hurriedly. Wanda wandered back into the restaurant in a daze. Her chest was constricted. The anxiety filled her lungs, returning with a strong vengeance. It was so obvious Vince wanted the child, from the way he offered to raise it single handedly to the way he looked like an excited child when she said there was still a chance she wouldn’t terminate the pregnancy.

Wanda slid down the wall of the bar until she was sitting. Wrestling her shoes off, she sighed. She was so unbearably confused. Steve and Pietro and Sam said she shouldn’t keep it, but Scott and Hope had argued she should. Clint did not clear anything up. Laura - she hadn’t even gotten the chance to speak to her foster mother.

And Vince? The father? The man who abandoned her at junior prom but had given her the most heartfelt apology she’d ever heard? Even though his face resembled Cassie’s heartbroken face when Scott had to work and couldn’t stay and play princesses with her, but Vince never even tried to talk her out of her decision. In that moment, she knew she could not go back to her an apartment where a bottle of pills awaited her.

“Hey? Thought that was you.” Carol’s popped over the bar. “Did ya find him?”

Wanda nodded, leaning against one of the stools.

“How’d it go? Get any days off?”

“Fine. And yes, a few.”

“Lucky.” smirked Carol. “I can never get any days off to go see Millie and the kid. Is it cause you rekindled that passionate love from high school?”

“God, no. He does remember all of it though.”

“So what’s the trick? Do I need to take my shirt off?” Carol laughed and Wanda hit her leg.

“No. And even if you did he would look away because he is the world’s politest gentleman.” If that didn’t make this anymore confusing. Wanda rolled her eyes, and hoped Carol wouldn’t see through her.

“Hmm? What’s that?” Carol pointed to the writing on her hand.

Wanda gasped inwardly and tucked the hand under her arm. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh my God, you got his phone number!” Carol yelled, and Wanda winced.

“No I did not! It is a reminder to pick something up for Pietro. Speaking of that,” Grabbing her shoes, Wanda stood up. “I need to go. Can you cover my shift? Please?”

Carol stood as well. “Course, Maximoff. Dinner rush will be slow tonight anyways, unless all these reporters suddenly decide they eat dinner like normal human beings. Pretty sure they are robots. Or zombies. Or robot zombies - oh my God that’s a great idea!”

“Thanks, Danvers.”

“Sure thing.” She shrugged, reaching for Quill’s opened jar of martini olives. She shoved three in her mouth as Wanda shuddered at the smell. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you… Have you talked to the father of the kid yet?”

**_**

**As they always say, there’s no place like home. And somehow, we always manage to find ourselves back there.**

New York City was always quiet to Wanda when she was at the edge of the city. In the twilight, it gleamed and sparkled against the setting sun in a gentle chaos as she swung back and forth on the Barton’s porch swing. Wanda had come back to her foster home after her talk with Vince.

“Hey, Clint said you were here.” The screen door creaked, and Wanda looked up to see Laura. “I thought you’d be at work.”

“No. I - uh - I did not feel like working tonight.”

Laura nodded, pulling her shawl across her and taking a seat next to Wanda.

“I talked to Vince - Vincent.”

“Really?” Laura’s eyebrows shot up. “How did that go?”

“He knew about the insemination but he did not know about that I was the mother. Dr. Cho did not tell him, apparently.”

Laura took a breath inward, putting her hand on Wanda’s. “I bet that must have been rough. I can’t imagine telling my high school ex I had been accidently inseminated with his only biological child.”

“You remember him?” Wanda asked, staring at her foster mother in disbelief.

“Of course!” laughed Laura. “I don’t think I could forget the jerk who ditched my daughter at prom.”

Wanda found herself smiling. “He apologized for that today. He told me he had a family emergency.”

“Sure, that excuses everything. Yesterday, I had a nurse call in saying she couldn’t make her shift because of a family emergency. Later that night, a doctor was on his phone and saw on Facebook she checked in at Chili’s.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.” Wanda squeezed Laura’s hand. “Everyone at the hotel knows about prom and it is beyond embarrassing. At this point I am lucky Pietro can’t remember because he would lose it!”

“Your secret is safe with me, Wanda. Besides, Clint would lose his shit if he found out.”

“Swear jar.”

“Excuse me,” Laura gasped, planting her hands on her hips. “Miss I’m going to swear in a foreign language so no one knows I’m swearing and don’t have to pay!”

For the first time in two days, Wanda burst into euphoric laughter, her foster mother laughing along with her. In that moment, the weight inside her was light, and the tears she’d been swallowing all day dissipated.

“But really, are you okay? You left before we got a chance to talk.” Laura said. Her eyes were wide with concern and her voice was gentle. Wanda took a shaky breath.

“Pietro is telling me to take the pill because he does not want to see me in pain. Steve does not want me to keep it because I am too young. Sam says it isn’t my child, yet Scott and Hope are telling me I am fully capable of having a baby. Carol told me I do not have to have a baby if I do not want to. Clint is saying I need to make a decision.”

“And what do you want?”

At the sound of Laura’s warm voice and her genuine concern, something inside Wanda broke. The tears she’d been forcing down for days broke their dam and spilled down her face as she shook from painful sobs. In her heart was a dull ache that pounded with every beat. Laura placed her hand on Wanda’s cheek, wiping away the tears.

“Oh, honey,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Laura, you should have seen Vince. He wants the baby so bad - he - he even offered to take it from me but - but I wouldn’t hear it. And I - I just did not want this baby to take over my life, and change everything.” she sobbed into Laura’s shoulder.

“I know, baby.”

“But it is going to. Because it is real. I can’t keep denying that it’s not some bad dream - because it’s not! It is a  _ baby _ . A real human being - and it is - it’s mine. And I am going to get attached to it because how can I not? But I don’t even know if I want it! What if I get attached - and- and have to give the baby up?” The tears were coming faster now, and it hurt to speak without choking. “This is going to be so  _ hard _ . I do not know how - how to be prepared or how to act - or, or what to do to so this doesn’t hurt anymore!”

“Oh, Wanda. I do not know if there’s anything you can do.” whispered Laura as she rocked Wanda back and forth, but Wanda couldn’t stop crying.

“And - and no matter what they are telling me, I can’t just end the pregnancy. Not because of Vince, but - but because it would be so unfair to you and to Natasha and I just - I just - it’s just not fair!”

“Wanda, this isn’t about my miscarriages is it?” Laura took her face in her hands and tucked her hair behind her ear. Wanda nodded, her shoulders shaking in their own panicked rhythm. “Wanda, Wanda, Wanda, please, those weren’t your fault.”

“I know - know, but I couldn’t just end this baby if you couldn’t ever have your own. How - how could I be so selfish?”

“Wanda, sweetheart, listen to me. It does not matter to me at all if you don’t have this baby. My miscarriages happened and that’s okay. I’ve come to peace with it, Wanda, because I got to take care of you, and Pietro, and Nat, and everyone else.” Laura told her, still stroking her hair.

“I don’t know what to do. This is not what I planned.” sobbed Wanda.

“I know, honey. But I also know that sometimes the thing we don’t plan are some of the best things that happen to us. I couldn’t have my own children, and then Clint found Natasha and I got to have this amazing family I would not have been able to have if I had my own babies. Maybe, this unplanned baby will be one of the best things that’s ever happened to you.”

Wanda wiped the salty tears from her eyes. “Maybe.”

“And,” Laura continued. “If you keep the baby for a few weeks and then decide you don’t want it, we can look into getting an abortion.”

“An abortion?”

“Yeah, Clint and I would be behind you. You’re also lucky if you decide to too, because New York’s abortion laws aren’t a strict as say, Texas.” Laura gestured out into the horizon and Wanda laughed. “Or if don’t want an abortion but don’t want to keep the baby, adoption is still an option.”

Hiccupping, Wanda shook her head. “I could not live with the idea of my child out there with no idea of who I am? And I would not know them either?”

“I’m sure there would be plenty of families who would want an open adoption, Wanda. Don’t cut yourself off too early, okay?” Laura looked at her with wide eyes.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“You don’t have to make a decision right now. But know that whatever you chose, keeping the baby or not, Clint and I support you, and we’ll always love you. But right now - disregard me and Clint and Vince and Pietro and everybody. You get to be selfish right now. Okay?”

Wanda nodded again as Laura took her in her arms. The weight in Wanda’s stomach had returned, but the dull ache in her chest was gone. Replacing it was an odd feeling of peace. Laura rocked her back and forth just as she did on her first night at the Farmhouse.

This would be difficult. It would be full of pain, and anger, and  _ so much _ hurt. Sitting on the porch swing with Laura’s arm around her shoulder, Wanda accepted it all. She accepted the pregnancy, she accepted the chaos, because somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that at the end of this very, very dark tunnel, there was a light.

**_To Be Continued…_ **

****___ ** **

**Song that plays at the end of the “episode”:[Been a Long Day by Rosi Golan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I2vDLM4Hamk)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Miracles, Etc…  
> Wanda, having made a decision, now has to go to Vince and tell him as the rest of her family - and his - argue about suing Dr. Cho. Meanwhile, Matt brings in his very mysterious connection to help aid Karen’s case.
> 
> Thanks again to my amazing beta who proofread this whole chapter all last night after coming home at 9:30 pm because she already had to play a graduation ceremony and playing those suck. She's hella amazing!
> 
> Here's to hoping I redeem myself in Episode Three. I promise there will be a ton of Viz and Wanda interaction in that one!!!


	4. Episode 3; Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda, having made a decision, now has to go tell Vince as the rest of her family- and his- argue about the best course of action to take. Meanwhile, how much trouble can Pietro Maximoff get into at Babies Я Us?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience. After Episode 2 was posted, I ran into some heavy writer's block and first it was slow going. But thanks so much to the love and support that has been given to this fic, I was able to ge Episode Three up.
> 
> And because it is so long this, it is split into two parts so it is not so overwhelming. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to tell me what you think! ~CS

**Ahh, there you are again. Before we begin, a refresher:**

**_Previously Miracles, etc…_ **

**Wanda Maximoff has lived this crazy life, but as it turns out the only thing crazier than your old high school crush becoming your boss is a medical mix-up that results in getting accidentally inseminated with his sperm. And to make things even more frustrating for our hero, most of her family says she shouldn’t keep the pregnancy. The father? Vincent Anderson (poor cinnamon roll), and even though it’s his only chance for a biological family, he told Wanda it was up to her. And that doesn’t put** **_any_ ** **pressure on her.  On top of all this, Wanda’s friend Karen was arrested for** **_supposedly_ ** **stabbing a guy to death, so Elektra brought in our two favorite lawyers who might just have the key to solving Karen’s case. Meanwhile, our favorite brother Pietro is feeling like a fucking idiot (his words, not mine) because he can’t help his sister. Oh, I almost forgot - Wanda’s friend/almost-sister Hope wants her to sue Dr. Cho, the doctor who inseminated her.**

**All caught up? Then let’s begin.**

When Wanda first moved to New York City, she absolutely despised the subway. It was loud and crowded and there were always too many people in her opinion. But as she grew used to antics of New York City and all its surprises, the subway became a place of reckoning for her. Even in the noise and the energy of all the people, Wanda could go to a quiet place in her head and try to sort through her tangle of worries.

Her headphones in, Wanda found that even on the calm of the bare subway, she couldn’t find that same peace as she came back to her apartment. She picked at her the flaky nail polish and tried to take deep breaths, but her mind kept thinking back on what probably amounted to one of the worst weeks of her life.

_ “You’re pregnant,”  _ the nurse had said like it changed absolutely. Wanda scoffed at the memory. As if those two words did not turn her entire universe around.

_ “I think it would be best if you would consult the father,”  _ Dr. Cho’s words came back to her and she swallowed.  _ “It was his only sample. We will do our best to reach out to him, but I’ll go ahead and give you his contact information. His name is Vincent Anderson…” _

The subway rocked back and forth, coming to a stop. Wanda took one of her earbuds out as a new set of people trickled onto the train. The last of them was a woman, carrying a bright bundle of pink blankets. She was cooing and whispering to bundle, rocking it back and forth before taking a seat at the front of the car. Wanda forced herself to look away when a little hand peeked from the bundle, reaching for her mother’s outstretched hand.

Carol jokingly called her a religious messiah.  _ “You don’t have to have this baby, Wanda.”  _ she had also said.

The subway began to move and the pink bundle began to hiccup, still holding her mother’s fingers.

_ “You don’t deserve this, Wanda. You’re the last person who deserves this…”  _ Pietro. Pietro, looking so pale Wanda thought he was the one going to vomit.

Rocking her once more, the woman kissed the bundle’s forehead. “Shhh,” she whispered gently as she stroked her bundle’s forehead.

_ “I’m not going to watch you go through this, not if there is something to do about it.” _ Her brother, her only living family - angry and at loss for what to do.

“I think you want your pacifier, don’t ya?” The bundle cooed at the sound of her mother’s voice. The woman reached into a purple polka dotted bag and pulled out a tiny plastic pacifier. Just like that, the bundle’s crescendoing cries came to a peaceful stop.

_ “You should take the pill.”  _ Steve.

“There.” The woman smiled, wide and happy, at her happy little bundle. “All better.”

“ _ If Wanda is going to have a baby, it should be hers!”  _ Sam. Because apparently he didn’t understand the biology.

“How old is she?” an elderly woman, one who had also come on at the last stop, leaned over across the aisle and asked the mother.

_ “Is this even possible?”  _ Scott.

“She’ll be two months old in three days.” The mother smiled again, shifting her arms so the elderly woman could see the pink bundle. The bundle let out a squeal and Wanda was suddenly worried if it was a squeal of happiness or of distress.

_ “She’s just a kid! What about what happened in Maine?”  _ Yes, Wanda had heard his little comment from the kitchen.

“Oh, she’s quite beautiful.” remarked the elderly woman. “And she has a perfect little head. Don’t you sweetheart?” The bundle squealed again, and this time, a smile crept onto Wanda’s face.

_ “You know they are trying, no?”  _ Pietro had said, that moment as she broke down in Laura’s kitchen. She’d lost her temper then, saying he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever be able to understand.

“Thank you. The nurses said they’d never seen such a round head.” The mother shifted, giving the bundle her pacifier once more. The bundle must have spit it out.

_ “So what’s it gonna be kiddo? Sit on your ass and keep denying it?”  _ Clint.  _ “Or get up and make a decision?” _

“She looks like her mother.” the elderly woman placed a shaky hand on top of the pink blankets.

“You think so? She’s always looked more like her father to me.” A small smile on her face, the mother tilted her head to get a better look at what she cradled safely in her arms. The bundle let out another squeal, consequently spitting the pacifier out once more. “That’s right, baby girl. We’re going home to see Daddy.”

Vince.

_ “I will leave this in your hands.” _

Pink bundle reached out her hand again, and an unknown emotion swelled in Wanda’s heart. The mother took her daughter’s tiny fragile fingers, the simple touch connecting the bundle to her entire world, and the mother shook her, the wide happy smile back on her face. “I saw that.” she whispered. “You think you can’t hide your yawns from me but I’m your mama. You can’t hide anything from me.”

_ “Sometimes the things we don’t plan are some of the best things that happen to us.”  _ Laura. The woman who took Wanda in and raised her as her own daughter.

“Tired little thing, aren’t ya?” the elderly woman asked.

Yawning herself, the mother nodded. “Not as tired as her mother.  _ Somebody  _ is not sleeping through the night yet. Still, it’s worth it…”

_ “Maybe, this unplanned baby will be one the best things that’s ever happened to you.” _

Wanda placed her hand on her torso. Choking back tears, she tried her best to imagine whatever was inside her in their own pink or blue bundle. The thought of her own bundle reaching out for her fingers made her hands shake and her heart stop.

_ Stupid hormones,  _ she thought to herself, wiping her eyes.

“She must be such a blessing.” The elderly woman was saying.

“She is. I can’t imagine my life without her and she’s barely even two months old, but we almost weren’t able to have her. She’s our little miracle.”

The mother of the pink bundled looked up then, catching Wanda’s eye. She smiled and it was soft and genuine, nodding at the sight of Wanda’s hand still on her torso. Suddenly, her bundle cried out and the mother was there for her daughter immediately, no matter what she needed.

_ “You get to be selfish now.” _

Wanda let out a deep breath and mentally counted to ten. Today marked seventeen days into her pregnancy. According to Dr. Cho a full term was 40 weeks. Right now she was officially two weeks and three days through.

The bundle let out another cry, the elderly woman laughed, and the mother began to whisper the words of a lullaby to her little miracle.

Wanda put her other hand on top of her belly. It was going to be a long two hundred and sixty-three days.

_

**Day nineteen…**

“I want it.”

“Huh?”

“I want it. The child.”

**Welcome to the outdoor patio of Stark Towers. If there is anything you should know about Stark Towers, is that it’s beautiful outdoor patio looks like a Miami beach. You should also know it cost a shit ton of money, but never mind that, let’s check in with Vince, Tony, and their margaritas.**

“Wait,” Tony lifted an eyebrow and took another sip of his cranberry lime margarita. “You actually  _ want  _ the kid? Is offensive if I ask why?”

Vince took a deep, uneven breath before responding. “An unexpected byproduct of cancer.”

“Oh.” Tony shrugged, and looked on the verge of responding when the patio door open and out stepped Pepper and Natasha.

“What was an unexpected byproduct of your cancer?” Pepper repeated. Her voice was light and chipper as she pulled out a chair and took a seat next to her fiancé. It brought to Vince’s mind the memory of a songbird.

“I no longer possess the capability to father children, it would seem. I must have missed that detail when reading the manual. You never think about how badly you might want children, and a family, until you can’t have any.” Instead of looking at his friends, especially Natasha, Vince fiddled with his ring. The light of the topaz gem reflected on the metal rims of the table and into his eyes.

The sun had been reflecting off her silhouette when she approached him, (on the verge) of blinding him and he could only make out a shadow. At the time he’d been back and forth on the phone with Maria Hill, trying desperately to work out whether or not it would be beneficial for  _ The Maria  _ to make an official statement regarding the murder of Daniel Fisher. Wanda Maximoff was merely another waitress who had come to pester him for his detailed plan of freeing Karen Page.

Then the glowing silhouette had stomped her foot.  _ “Did they not tell you? I am her. I am the mother. The child I am carrying, it’s yours.” _

And in that moment, time had stopped.

The woman he had been trying to remember, in such desperation that he had pulled the part time employee schedule from Quill’s bar, made a copy, and used it so he could try and find her. Yet every time she was on the schedule to work and he went to find her, Wanda Maximoff was nowhere to be found in the crimson lights of  _ The Maria.  _ Vince assured himself he was not doing this to be a stalker, but to remember. If he could speak to her, then surely it would spark a dusty memory, and he could the exorcise the ghost haunting his mind. This was the only reason drawings of her face littered his desk, and no other, he told himself when he could not sleep. He could let her go when he remembered.

Speaking to her, as he had guessed, truly was the key to remembering. Memories that had been buried under ten years of resolve came to light sparked by her words. He went straight back to his suite after she had spoken with him and pulled out his old year book, looking for a very specific picture. Every memory her words had not unlocked came flooding back to him by one picture of him and the woman who was now the mother of his only child, sitting in an office surrounded by a mountain of manila folders and an endless stacks of paper.

_ “Counselor Aids Wanda Maximoff and Vincent Anderson organize the files in the front office”  _ the caption read. Wanda was smiling brightly at the camera, holding up one of the many files. Vince was not looking at the camera. His was looking at her.

Vince had known Wanda Maximoff from his only real year at an American high school after his mother had them relocated to the States.  As a result of his family’s sketchy past, the school’s crisis counselor-

**Say “school’s crisis counselor” three times fast.**

-Agatha Harkness had assigned him the job of counselor’s aid as a way to keep an eye on him. Wanda was her other aid and he would later discover she was there for a similar reason. Wanda, a year behind him, saw him as a threat to her aid position. To give her more reason to hate him, fate would have it that he was in three of her classes.

Vince doubted he would survive the year after the first few days with her, but he found her resentment was the first layer to a very intricate individual. There was an ease in talking to her he found in none of his other peers. None of them were as deep and thoughtful as she was, and none of them were quite as interesting. Filled with filing paperwork and tracking down students for Mrs. Harkness, Vince spent the first semester by her side. He fell quickly. He remembered blinking- April had arrived- and all his classmates could talk about was prom. All he could think about was her, how badly he wanted to ask Wanda to be his date, and how he could graduate happy amongst everything happening at home. However, he also could not stop thinking about how he could either a) throw up trying to ask her, b) she would reject him and never want to speak to him again, or c) all of the above. This could have been a possible reason he decided to ask her three days before the dance, so-

“Whatcha thinking so hard about, Vision?” Tony said, calling Vince by his old nickname in an attempt to break his reverie.

“Oh, the - the statement I have to make,” he coughed, blinking the image of Wanda out of his mind, “regarding Daniel Fisher’s murder.”

Tony let out a whine as if he were young child. Pepper shook her head and helped herself to Tony’s glass. “That poor man. I can’t believe that waitress would do something so horrid.” she gagged.

“Heard anything from the police yet?” Natasha’s bored voice echoed off the table.

“Unfortunately no. They assigned head detective Clint Barton and his partner to the case, however.” Vince let out a sigh.

At his words, Tony shifted in his seat. Natasha suddenly found a more interesting crack in the glass to pick at. Pepper would not meet Vince’s eyes.

All three of them had been acting stranger - well stranger than normal - since news of the murder turned their world upside down four days prior. In fact, today’s margarita session was the first he’d seen from any of them. Vince had come to meet Tony earlier to discuss his statement, but he found a man with heavy bags under his eyes and twitchy hands. Vince would know the feeling of sleeplessness, so he left the statement alone; on the other hand, Pepper’s red, swollen eyes mirrored her short attitude and Natasha’s ever-increasing Vince left an uneasy feeling in his chest.

_ It has everything to do with the murder, _ Vince repeated this bitter mantra in his mind,  _ and nothing to do with the insemination. _

He opened his mouth to speak, but Tony spoke first. “I say  _ The Maria  _ makes a statement.”

“What? Hill made it very clear to me we stay out of the media-”

“So? Have you even been on Twitter this morning?” demanded Tony.

He hadn’t.

“People are demanding answers from us. We at least need to throw them a bone.”

“And say what?” Natasha asked with the flick of her hand. “Hey, sorry this guy got stabbed to death at our hotel but we promise there’s no danger here, come bring your families up we’re having a murder special. Oh and P.S. the woman you are tweeting didn’t do it, did it, xoxo?”

Pepper chewed on her lip. “Along those lines. But I don’t think we should make this about the waitress. We could just say our love and thoughts go out to the victim’s family, his wife, his kids-”

“Daniel Fisher had no family.” Vince interrupted. “No living relatives, no wife, no… children.”

“Oh okay, noted. So we say we’re doing everything in our power to bring him justice, and assure everyone that  _ The Maria  _ is still safe.” Pepper pressed her palms flat against the glass table, as if she was trying to stabilize herself. Tony put a hand on her shoulder, and expressed his agreement.

“The staff will see it as a personal attack.” Vince warned. He could hear their voices in his head, they’d become like a background score to his everyday life, demanding and petitioning for the attention Karen Page supposedly deserved.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Those guys see everything as an attack. You really need to tell them to stop calling my office.”

“I doubt they will listen to me, especially now.”

‘It might be worth a shot.” Pepper told him, but Vince shook his head. The last thing he needed right now was to give his staff directions only to have it backfire. They were not in a position, and neither was this waitress, to negotiate.

“I will see what I can do.” Vince promised her. “But there are more important things I must attend to.”

At the thought of his venomous staff, the image of Wanda gleaming in the sunlight came back to him. She no longer looked as she did in the yearbook picture. Even as a confused seventeen-year-old, Vince thought she was incredibly beautiful, but now…

“Oh yeah. He wants the kid.” Tony blurted suddenly. Vince pinched the bridge of his nose.

In the midst of drinking from her fiancé’s glass, Pepper choked. “What the hell?” she almost yelled when she finally stopped coughing. “I mean - are you sure Vincent? For god’s sake, the mother is a stranger-”

“She is not, as it turns out.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Natasha asked, not even making eye contact.

“Can you stop being cryptic for forty-five seconds.” whined Tony. Inwardly Vince hoped that if Wanda kept the child, they would not be as whiny as Tony acted.

**Savage.**

“I’ll start counting.” waving Tony off, Vince continued. “She - the mother - she actually works at the hotel as a waitress.”

“Not  _ the  _ waitress, I’m hoping.” Pepper pressed her hands on the table again.

Once Vince shook his head, everyone sighed audibly as if they were all relieved characters from a child’s cartoon. “She came to speak with me a few days ago at the pool.” He continued. “She told me she plans on not keeping the child.”

“You didn’t drop the cancer card?” Tony asked, the second after Vince had finished.

“The what?”

“Why didn’t you tell her this was your only chance for a biological mini you? You were dropping it in on us five minutes ago.” clarified Tony. He greedily drunk what was left of his margarita.

“It not cross my mind, Tony, to use that on her, and besides, she was already visibly upset.”

“So you just told her thanks and have a nice day. Did you even tell her you want it?” demanded Pepper.

_ “I am not ready to be a mother.”  _ Wanda’s voice echoed like a siren’s in his head.  _ “That guilt is not something I want my baby to feel…ever.” _

“She was upset.” was all Vince could say.

Pepper sunk in her chair, Tony threw his head back, and Natasha glared at him as if he was the small whiny child. “It’s not her decision to make, Vincent. It’s your baby too, and she needs to know that you want it.”

“Wanda is supposed to come see after she makes her final decision. According to the other waitresses she took a few days off to be with family. I could try and locate her contact information in the system, but I feel it is best to let her come to me.”

“Did she say when that would be-” Pepper started to ask, but was interrupted by Tony putting a hand on her shoulder.

“What did you say this woman’s name was?” Tony asked.

“The mother’s? Wanda.” replied Vince. “Wanda Maximoff. We - uh - we actually attended high school together. We were in health together…” he trailed off, the happiness in him dissipating in the short length of a second. Tony, Pepper, and Natasha were exchanging indecipherable looks between the three of them. Yet is was in the blink of an eye. Vince would have missed it had he not looked up.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

Tony stroked his goatee. “Where’d you say you went to high school?”

“N. J. Fury, I only stayed there for year, I did not even end up finishing-”

“Wait, N.J. Fury?” Tony inquired.

Vince nodded, again. “Yes, why?”

“Just learning some new things about you, that’s all.” Tony stuttered, but then punched him in the shoulder.

Pepper pulled Tony toward her by the shoulder and spoke so softly that Vince almost missed it. “Maybe you should tell him, Tony.” Tony shook his head furiously at her.

“Tell me what?” Vince asked in apprehension.

“Tony-” Pepper started, but it was Tony that finished.

“Needed to tell you to maybe hurry up on your statement. We’ve just gotten word some investors are threatening to walk out on us - Lee, Cheung, those guys, if we don’t take care of this, so…”

Vince’s response waited on his tongue, but he part of him was still too invested in the look of irritation Natasha was giving Tony. “I will keep this in mind.” he responded absentmindedly.

“But about this waitress-”

“Wanda?”

“Yeah, her. Look, Vision. She really has no right to make this decision without your input. I’m sure there is some legal clause about it somewhere.”

“Why does it matter?” insisted Vince. “She is the one carrying it for the next  _ thirty-seven weeks _ . She is the one who delivers the baby. If she does not want that, what right do I have to force her into having the baby?”

“Do you need us to be the bad guy?” Pepper looked at him with wide eyes, her hand creeping towards her phone. “Cause if that’s what this is about, we can tell her-”

“No! Don’t do or say anything to Wanda.  _ I _ will handle this.” Vince stood up. Anger and irritation ignited in his veins, and for once he was grateful for the effect his 6’3’’ stature had on an audience.

Pepper and Tony exchanged another look. The threat haunted the moment as it hung in the air only to be broken by the first few notes of Minkus’  _ The Kingdom of Shades _ . Natasha stood abruptly with an annoyed look and announced “I have to take this” before entering back through the stained patio doors.

“Do you think you should tell your brother?” Pepper asked once Natasha had been absent for a few seconds.

“Excuse me?”

“You haven’t seen him in almost five years-”

“Ugh.” Tony shifted his feet onto the table and made a noise of disgust. “I thought we agreed never to talk about that guy again.  _ Ever. _ No offense.” He quickly added upon looking up at Vince. A familiar pain erupted in Vince’s shoulder, and he brought his hand up to the ache out of habit immediately.

“None taken, and no, I do not plan to contact my brother about the insemination no matter how long it has been. If any of you were planning on taking it upon yourselves-”

“Of course not!” yelled Pepper, shaking her head.

“I’d rather get a root canal.” Tony whispered. “Who was on the phone?”

Natasha was stepping onto the patio once again, her standard look of boredom having been replaced by one of worry. “An… an old friend.” she answered. “He wanted to speak with you too but I told him you would call later.”

Tony’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, and suddenly a minefield of frustration broke in Vince. He could no longer sit with them and play charades as  _ The Maria  _ waited in the distance.

“I have to get back to  _ The Maria _ .” Vince told them, sending them each another look. “I have a statement to write.”

As he began to walk back to the porch, Tony’s voice called after. “Tell us if she contacts you, okay?”

“And what she  _ and you  _ decide.” added Pepper

Vince did not respond. He told himself they were only trying to be supportive in their own way, but he also wished there was some way to communicate this problem - this child - was not merely a black and white issue. So if she was still reminiscent of the person he knew in high school, then one fact remained true.

When it came to Wanda Maximoff,  _ nothing  _ was ever black and white.

**Oh, honey. It’s going to be a long thirty-seven weeks for you too.**

**_**

**Something’s cooking in the kitchen…**

For a man who had lived most of his life blind, Matt Murdock found his way around pretty well. Thanks to his heightened senses he traded for sight, or “superhuman abilities” as Foggy dubbed them and his handy dandy you-can’t-just-hit-me-with-that-whenever-you-want-Matt walking stick (also Foggy named), Matt had no issue taking the subway or buses, walking on sidewalks, or crossing streets.

And he had no issue getting to the dirty, vodka-smelling heart of Hell’s Kitchen.

Whenever Matt and Foggy came to this area of their town, Foggy always liked to describe to Matt what the foul smelling place looked like, and he never failed to emphasize the differences from their corner of Hell to this one. Foggy told Matt that the rest of Hell’s Kitchen was red, not just because of the blood staining the sidewalk, but because the buildings were built from crimson bricks and the lights were always, always stuck on red (“Traffic is pretty damn terrible, Matt” he would add here, even though Matt could hear every blaring car horn and bass beat for about four miles) and so the entire city radiated red.

Except for the center. No matter what time of day, the heart of Hell’s Kitchen beat violet instead of the usual crimson. This was because, Foggy explained, all the buildings were painted black and almost every building had a glowing neon on sign. Matt disagreed with Foggy’s explanation. It was not the color of the buildings or the fluorescent lights or the smell. The people here were different than usual criminal or hard worker trapped in poverty that danced in the shadows of the city’s upcoming entrepreneurs. These people were a different kind of demon: they were smarter, sneakier, and they were patient. They would wait quietly, salivating at the mouth, for the chance to strike at whatever they wanted: opportunity, money… power.

There was, however, one exception to the patient rule.

**One very, very big exception.**

This exception was what brought Matt to the heart of the city today.

_

**Now at this point, you’re thinking “Oooooh I know who this is!” Good job. Please, give yourself a cookie. Get me one while you’re at it, too.**

“…motherfucking magazine kids. We don’t want any!” Matt heard somebody moan from behind the door he had just knocked on, followed the deafening sound of three dogs trying to bark over each other. “Oh shut up, you!”

Matt tried knocking again once the dogs calmed. Still no one answered but a bunch of barking and the frantic heartbeats of excited animals.

“We don’t want any!”

“Jess, get the door!” another voice called over the dogs’ barking.

“I  _ can’t! _ ” the first voice responded. “I’m holding these stupid dogs back - hey shut the fuck up!”

After a few moments during which Matt could hear some more dog wrangling, the door opened a hair and the scent of perfume began to mask the stench of vodka that was emanating from the building walls.

“Can we help you?” the woman asked.

“Hi, I’m Matt Murdock. I’m a lawyer with the firm Nelson and Murdock. I was wondering if I could speak with Jessica Jones?”

**Jessica Jones, Private Investigator. Or as it says on her business card, “Here to kick ass and fuck shit up.”**

The woman did not respond for a few minutes, then “Hey, there’s a lawyer here to see you. He says his name is Matt Murdock.”

“Oh fuck, now I really don’t want any!” Jessica yelled back.

“Well he wants to talk you. What did you do now?” The woman told her.

“Nothing - nothing, I promise! Just tell him I’m not here!” she yelled back, the smell of vodka hitting Matt more intensely now.

“He can hear you!”

“So?”

Despite her initial and vulgar protesting, a few minutes later Matt was sitting on Jessica Jones’ couch - if the shaggy thing even passed for a couch, he couldn’t tell - scratching the head of one of her pit bulls.

“Idiot dog.” Jessica growled. “I’m telling Luke this is the last time I watch his stupid mutts.”

“Whatever, Jess. You love those dogs. Almost as much as you love Luke.” The other woman teased Jessica before turning to Matt. By the increased intensity of her perfume, Matt figured she was holding out her hand. “Hi, I’m Trish. Trish Walker.”

**Patricia Walker, Radio Talk Show Host. Or as it says on** **_her_ ** **business card, “Here to kick ass and then drag Jessica’s drunk one home.”**

Matt took her outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Walker. You do Trish Talk, right? My partner’s a big fan of your talk show.”

“Yes! Tell your partner I said thank you and that’s very sweet of them. Is it okay if I ask if you’re-” she stopped speaking, probably gesturing to her forehead.

“Don’t bother Trish. He can’t see you.” Jessica interrupted dryly. The crisp pop of bottle opening echoed off the windows. “So what do you want Murdock?”

“It’s good to see you, too, Jessica.”

“Guess you finally dug your nose out of Landman and Zack’s pretentious ass.”she went on, completely ignoring his sentiment.

He nodded. “Foggy and I started our own firm down on the other end of town.”

“Oh yeah.” She took a swig from the can. “How is the teddy bear?”

“Still mad at you.”

Jessica let out a loud humph. “Yeah, well he deserved it.”

“I’m not even going to ask.” laughed Trish.

“Probably for the best.” Matt told her. “I need your help.”

“A lot of people need my help.” Jessica told him.

Matt sighed.  _ This  _ was exactly why this wasn’t his first move. Foggy – and Foggy’s pride - would be pleased that Matt had been wrong. “Foggy and I just took on a case - homicide. There’s a waitress, her name is Karen Page, she was arrested and charged for killing Daniel Fisher at the hotel  _ Maria  _ last week.”

“Oh yeah.” Trish said suddenly. “I heard about her. It was trending on Twitter a couple days ago.”

“Did she do it?” asked Jessica. Her heightened heartbeat gave away her peaked interest, and Matt bit back a smile.

“She says she didn’t. She’s pretty adamant about it, too.”

“And you believe her?” Trish asked before Jessica could.

“He’s got this weird thing where he can tell if you're bullshitting or not.” Jessica explained and Trish made a noise of understanding. “So what do you need my help for?”

Matt crossed his fingers. “Daniel Fisher was writing an editorial on the Healthy Young Dependents Rallied Association.”

Jessica choked. “That bag of racist Satan loving dicks?”

Matt nodded, then continued. “ _ The Maria  _ uses a phone app that allows guests to request room service. The only reason Karen even  _ found  _ Daniel Fisher was because she was delivering a meal, a possibly deadly meal, to his room. But that meal was ordered two hours before anyone in the kitchen received notice and Karen took the meal up. By that time, autopsy report says Daniel Fisher had been dead for three hours.”

“Did you check the cellphone?”

“Neither us nor the detectives could locate any of Fisher’s belongings. Apparently he checked into the hotel without any.”

“It’s like he just…went there to die.” Trish mused in a soft whisper.

“We don’t know.” Matt answered with all the honesty he could. He had his own suspicions. “Fisher could have been meeting with someone, or he could have been running. NYPD searched Fisher’s apartment in Manhattan and couldn’t find a cellphone or laptop.”

“Hmmm. How’d they know about the report?” Jessica took another swig.

It was a few seconds before Matt answered. “Fisher supposedly put in a request for protection to NYPD, back in August but they denied it, calling him paranoid.”

“Of. Fucking. Course.” was Jessica’s reply. “This is why I don’t work with those pretty boys anymore.”

“Yeah  _ that’s  _ why. Quick question Matt, before you get my friend involved in this case, why haven’t you brought this information to the police since you’re so in the loop?” catechized Trish.

“From what Foggy and I have heard in the past couple of days, Detective Barton suspects Healthy Young Dependents as well, but can’t release Karen without solid evidence. They’re on the lookout for Fisher’s belongings but considering they’ve been on Healthy Young Dependent’s trail for the past three years and all that’s to show is a few names, I’m not expecting much.”

“Oh. so that’s why you want Jess’ help?” Trish concluded. Her body heat signature shifted as she was turning to where Matt could hear Jessica’s pounding heart. “How do know this guy again?”

Jessica’s heart pounded faster, and Matt snickered. “She almost ran over me with her car.”

“What?! Is that why you got your license revoked?”

“No!” Jessica protested in a shrill voice. “That’s when I almost ran over the  _ deaf  _ guy.”

“Oh my God.” Trish sighed, but Jessica had already moved past it.

“Let me get this straight. This waitress wants to hire me because she was accused of stabbing a man who was sniffing around in Healthy Young Dependent’s shit and you want me to go find his belongings that are probably with the devil worshipping douche fucks?” Jessica summarized, beating Matt to his conclusion.

“Yes.”

“Can she pay?” she asked, her tone expectant.

“Well-”

“Then no.” Jessica deadpanned. “Why are you even agreeing to this shit if she can’t even pay?”

“Hey what happened to Miss Noble?” intoned Trish.

“Miss Noble wants to pay rent.” Kicking her friend in the knee, Jessica scoffed.

“I owe somebody a favor.” Matt admitted. He could then almost hear Jessica raising an eyebrow. “To the person who hired me to represent Karen. _She_ can pay, and if you help Karen, I can guarantee she’ll pay three times more than your standard rate. Besides, you owe me a favor too, for you know, almost running over me.”

Sighing, Jessica slumped in defeat. Her heart was beating rapidly, ringing in Matt’s ears. She just couldn’t resist the challenge. “I thought we settled that...dammit, fine. You win, Murdock. I’ll look around this hotel and see what I can find but I’m not promising shit. And I’m sure as hell not chasing down this fucking cult.”

“Understood.” Matt smiled, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Maybe the writers and I can do a story for the air,” Trish wondered out loud. “To the get the word out about Karen and Healthy-”

“No!” Jessica and Matt collectively shouted.

“You’re taking on Healthy Young Dickshits over  _ my dead body _ , Trish.” Jessica warned. Her tone had taken on a darker, more protective tone, like a mother warning a child not to talk to strangers.

Although her heart was beating faster and her breathing sounded shallower, Trish responded with a brave façade. “Hey, I’m already covering the Mayor’s involvement with Healthy Young Dependents. How is  _ this _ any different?”

“Now they are targeting people. The fact that they targeted a reporter tells me they want something to stay hidden. It’s not a rabbit hole I would go down, if I were you. It also might be best to leave the mayor story alone. For now.” Matt explained.

“Hey!” Trish protested. “My listeners are expecting more of that story I can’t just drop it-”

“Let Jessica and NYPD take care of Daniel Fisher, then you can pick the story back up.”

Trish let out a disappointed huff. “I am not a fan of this ‘rolling over thing.’ There’s still more I could be doing.” But she dropped the subject after insisting so.

“So,” Jessica started, taking on last gulp of her drink before crushing the can in her fist. “How soon are you hoping to have this shit?”

“Fairly quickly.”

Jessica let out a long hum. “I don’t know when I could get it for you. Or if I can get anything for you.”

“I’m on my way there after this.” Matt lied through his teeth.

“Oh, well let’s just go with him, Jess.” Trish suggested and Jessica let out an appalled noise as if she was a rebellious teenager who’d been told she had a curfew.

**Okay, but she’s not really that far off.**

Jessica wasn’t finished with her whining. “Sure! A celebrity, a blind man, and a private investigator walk into a Stark Hotel, what could  _ possibly  _ go wrong?”

 “Well I’m going.” announced Trish, and her heat signature straightened as she stood. “I would like to do some research for the story I’m apparently putting on hold.”

“Fuck! Fine. I’ll drive.” Jessica caved. A few minutes and few dog treats later, Matt followed her and Trish out the door.

“You still don’t have your license back.” Trish was saying.

“So?”

“How about I drive?” Matt suggested.

“I’m okay with that. What about you Trish?”

_

 

**And while I’m absolutely positive that traffic is** **_perfectly_ ** **normal down in Manhattan – nope nothing suspicious there - I’m also sure that things are great at Wanda’s apartment!**

**Said Wanda - never.**

“You still there?” a voice on the phone berated. “Oh, did you throw up again?”

From her fetal position on the cool tile floor of her bathroom, Wanda moaned. “Yes, Hope, I am still here. Ugh, why does everyone glorify pregnancy?  _ This is awful.” _

“Good question, but not one I can answer.” Hope responded.

“I hate this.” Wanda moaned again.

“You’re the one who wants to keep the baby, Wanda.” The phone wasn’t helping Hope’s naturally condescending voice.

Wanda had told Carol to tell Vince she was taking a few days off to be with her family to think the decision over. The reality? Wanda had spent her days off avoiding her family and throwing up every meal into a shiny, expectant, white toilet bowl. She did what she could to try and sleep when she wasn’t vomiting and to eat even though she knew it was only coming back up. Three weeks pregnant and her body still would not let go of its original symptoms: the vomiting, her aching breasts, her sensitivity to smells (she’d chased Pietro out of the house when she asked him to take a shower for the millionth time to which he always responded he would if he changed her coconut shampoo) all on top of her desire to take another nap. As a result, Wanda has gotten no school work done; all she had done was either lay on her mattress or lay on the tile floor of the bathroom.

Wanda moaned, holding her aching stomach, and fighting off the urge to hit her head repeatedly onto the cool tile. Most woman did not even  _ know _ they were pregnant by three weeks, she cursed, but here she was, pregnant and as nauseated as ever. Why did she have to be one of  _ those  _ cases?

“Hey did Steve ever get a hold of you?” Hope asked, crashing Wanda’s pity party.

“No.” Wanda hissed. “He has called several times and Carol has called several times and so have Clint and Laura. Why won’t they all go away?” Wanda moaned into a bath towel that had been strewn on her floor, most likely a few days earlier.

“They’re all just worried about you.” Hope offered. “You fell off the grid again.”

“I did not fall off the grid again, I got artificially inseminated.” mumbled Wanda. Her fingers traced the grout of her tiles and her mind wandered back to her bed. She didn’t want to get up from the bathroom floor, though not as badly as she wanted to curl up under her quilt and ignore everything and everyone.

“And extremely moody, apparently.” Hope sighed, and Wanda rolled her eyes.

“I should have sent you to voicemail.” she growled.

Laughing loudly, Hope boasted, “I’m surprised you picked up considering Steve’s called six times in the past hour and according to his text you’ve ignored him each time.”

“Don’t be flattered,” Wanda almost laughed, “The only reason I picked up your call was because I thought you were Steve and wanted someone to yell at.”

“You’re going to be a great mother.” laughed Hope, but her simple comment made Wanda’s heart beat so quickly she was scared it was going to stop all together.

Her stomach rumbled again, and she cursed in Sokovian. Swinging herself up, Wanda hugged the toilet’s basin and waited as the familiar metallic taste filled her mouth. Then she brushed her hair back and waited for her body to take her through the motions.

“Are you back?” Hope asked when Wanda threw her body back down onto the tile floor with a thwack. She wiped her mouth and swallowed the lingering bile. Ugh, it tasted like the grilled cheese she had tried to eat for lunch.

“Would any of this be easier if I had planned the pregnancy?” she wondered out loud. Hope’s voice on the other line stayed silent.

“I’m not sure.” she responded after a few patient minutes. “You might have been more psychologically prepared for all of you know… the vomiting, and you might be more excited for the baby.”

“Who says I am not excited?”

“Well you have been bemoaning your fate for the past fifteen minutes like a freaking Shakespearean character. Are you excited to be a mom at all?”

“I don’t know.” Wanda burped, and shuddered. She thought back to the night on the subway, the little pink bundle clutching her mother’s fingers… “Maybe - maybe a part of me is. I am mostly scared, I think.” Scared of the pregnancy and how it was going to take over her entire body, of her baby and how it was a real thing growing into a real person, of being a mother and how she was responsible for that real person.

Hope was quiet again. “I would be too.”

“I am going to throw up again.” Wanda whined, clutching her stomach harder now.

“Comparing from what I’ve heard from the girls at work, you’re throwing up a lot.”

Pietro had said the same thing, but Wanda was too focused on keeping her lunch to wonder why she was losing it. Wanda sighed and told Hope she was fine and this was to be expected.

“Still,” mused her friend, “I’m going to look up some natural remedies for morning sickness. How does crystallized ginger sound?”

“Crystallized what?”

“Crystallized ginger. Clean up, I’m bringing Cassie over.” Hope declared, and the phone beeped, signaling the phone call had ended before Wanda could sit up and protest.

Thirty minutes after, Wanda had made it up from the cool bathroom floor to her couch with an extreme amount of effort. Each time she tried to stand, a wave of vertigo would hit her and send her back down. Her bed beckoned more and more as the urge not go sleep became harder and harder to fight. Another obstacle was presented to her in the form of a mess made by her currently absent brother; having officially moved out of Crystal’s loft, all his stuff was in boxes that littered her already cluttered floor.

The door flew open, and her niece came barreling in waving her fairy wand. “Aunt Wanda!” she squealed as she jumped onto the couch and right onto her lap.

“Hey, piglet.” Wanda smiled, bouncing Cassie up and down. The tension and nausea in her body began to melt away like snow into water as Cassie began to ramble excitedly.

“Look what Hope got me!” Cassie beamed with a wide smile, holding up a tiny figure of a firefighter.

“Oh!” Wanda smiled.

“She let me pick it out at the store! It’s a fireman! There was an - an ananbulant - amanbulant - ambulant-”

“An ambulance?” Wanda offered, biting her lip to hold back her laughter.

“Yeah! An ambulance person like Grandma Laura and-and a policeman man like Papa Clint.” Cassie giggled.

Wanda laughed for the first time since deciding to keep the pregnancy. She bounced Cassie on her lap again. “So why did you pick the firefighter?”

“Cause he looks like Daddy!” giggled Cassie.

Hope came strutting in then, carrying two armfuls of brown paper bags. Cassie hopped down from Wanda’s lap, and the heaviness in Wanda’s chest returned. “Whoops! Hope needs my help, I’ll be right back, okay?”

“It’s okay, Cassie.” Hope smiled, handing her one of the bags, which she took eagerly. “Your job was to cheer up Aunt Wanda.”

“Oh yeah!” Cassie laughed and waddled back to Wanda with the paper bag.

“Thank you, piglet. What - what is all this?” Wanda asked, taking the bag from her niece.

“Cassie and I thought we could do some grocery shopping for you. We know you haven’t been able to get out of the house with the morning sickness, and plus Scott needed me to get a few things.” Hope began pulling cups of yogurt and boxes of Lucky Charms - Pietro’s favorite cereal - out of the bags. Wanda saw her pull out a jar of Jif Peanut Butter next, and she felt the bubbling urge to cry like a child. When she was in foster care, Wanda had developed a “bad habit” of eating peanut butter straight out of the jar with a spoon when she was nervous or stressed, and it had quickly become her number one comfort food.

“You don’t have to put those away.” Wanda lectured Hope. She limped into the kitchen with Cassie following her to find Hope unpacking an ensemble of products. “Three Lollies Preggie Drops, Anti-Nausea Candies,” Wanda picked up the package and read it out loud.

“Three lollies preggie.” Cassie tried to mimic in Wanda’s accent. Leaning down (how long would she be able do that, she wondered), she kissed her niece on the forehead and handed her the jar of peanut butter.

“Go find some spoons.” she told her before turning back to the counter. “Hope, what is all of this?”

“These are green apple lollipops with brown rice syrup and cane juice, and this is crystalized ginger.” she opened one of the containers and pulled out what looked like shiny ear wax. “Open wide.”

Wanda did as she was told, only to regret it instantly.

“Um, okay -  _ oh my god! _ ” Wanda choked as the ginger exploded in her mouth.

“Is it working?” Hope asked.

“It is really strong!” coughed Wanda.

“You’re being dramatic.” Hope chastised. “Is it working?”

Wanda took a deep breath and realized the dull ache in her stomach was fading. She nodded in defeat, chewing the rest of the ginger. “Yes. Yes, it is working.”

“Told you so.” Hope smirked.   

“I guess I wasn’t expecting the strength.” Wanda picked up another of Hope’s presents.  _ Sea Band Mama Drug Free Morning Sickness Relief Wrist Band _ , the package read. “I was not expecting any of this.”

“I know,” Hope smiled and enveloped her in a hug. Wanda couldn’t help but laugh. Hope never hugged anyone, unless they were Scott or Cassie, and even then, she hugged them only on “special occasions”.

“Found the spoons!” Cassie yelled, her head popping out from the pantry. Hope let go of Wanda as if she were on fire and Wanda laughed again.

“Bring them here, Piglet.” Wanda said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “How much did all this cost you?”

Hope shrugged and continued to unload. “It doesn’t matter because you’re not paying us back, Wanda. Consider it a gift from Scott and me.”

“Hope, I cannot let you-”

“No, Wanda, don’t. This really is nothing with Scott and Luis’ deal with Nordstrom going through finally and The Wasp line launching. We’re not the ones who are going to be needing the money, you are. You know, after you told us last week I went home and listened Scott talk for an hour about how worried he is about you because babies are so expensive.”

Below the two of them, Cassie was struggling to put the peanut butter on the counter. Wanda took it from her and unscrewed the lid, trying to digest what Hope was saying. The tears were fighting their way to the surface, and Wanda shook her head as she jammed one of the spoons into the peanut butter.

“We’re all worried about you, Wanda,” continued Hope, “and you’re about to be in a lot of really sucky undeserved pain that you didn’t ask for and your whole life is about to change because of some medical accident!”

“Yeah!” cheered Cassie, her brows furrowed just like Hope’s.

“Which is why we think you should sue Dr. Cho.” she finished.

Wanda choked on her spoon. “Why - why - would I sue?”

“Wanda, this is medical malpractice. When I go to my gynecologist I expect not to be knocked up without my consent.”

“I can’t sue.” Wanda sighed, digging another spoon into the peanut butter and handing it to her niece.

“And why is that?”

“Because Dr. Cho’s clinic is protected by Stark! It is the reason his part time employees have such a nice facility to go to, he’s one of their prime investors. Believe me,” she sighed again, “I know. The office called a couple days ago and told me they would understand if I filed a claim but  _ assured  _ me if I sued they would take this to court with Stark lawyers and I can’t handle the pregnancy and court at the same time. It was an accident, Hope. They could just as easily pin this on me as I could them.”

It was Hope’s turn to sigh. She pressed her fingers to her forehead and her shoulders slumped. “Of course she’s protected by Stark. But part of me believes - part of me suspects this wasn’t an accident. It’s just too big of coincidence! All the paperwork that goes into these kind of things… we can take this court, Wanda. You deserve a lot more than a measly claim. If they want to throw Stark’s name around then fine, we’ll throw the Pym name in.”

“No!” Wanda shook her head, thinking about all the nights she spent listening to Hope complain about her father. “I am not turning this-” she gestured to her stomach “-into a court battle between businesses!”

“Fine, okay, I understand. But I’m going to do some more digging into this clinic.” Hope declared as she stuck her own spoon into the peanut butter.

Taking Cassie’s outstretched spoon, Wanda chuckled. “You’re a fashion designer, Hope. You do not have to be my fly on the wall.”

“I know.” Hope shrugged. “But I have a funny feeling about this whole thing buzzing in the back of my mind, I can’t really explain it. Just, please keep suing as an option.”

“Okay, I will - if it makes you happy.”

“I need more!” Cassie held up her spoon again. Wanda and Hope looked down at her with identical smirks on their faces. “Uh… please?”

“Of course, Piglet. You know, if I sue, I would have to tell Vince and I do not know how well that would go over since every time I see him he’s either with one of Stark’s groups or on the phone with one of them.”

“The father? Why? It’s your kid, and more importantly, it’s  _ your  _ body.” Hope raised an eyebrow as she folded the last paper bag up.

**Say it again for the people in the back Hope!**

“It would be like if someone did something to Cassie - god forbid, I would cut them - and Scott sued without your permission.” explained Wanda.

Hope hummed. “It’s not the same. I’m not Cassie’s mother, but I get your point.”

“Are you ever going to be?” Wanda asked slyly, bumping her friend on the hip.

“Wanda, I told you drop this fantasy of yours...” warned Hope.

“Please, please, _please_ , Hope!” Wanda begged, feeling oddly happy. “I want to be a bridesmaid.”

“What’s a bridesmaid? Are they like a flower girl? Daddy told me about flower girls.” Cassie swung herself on the counter’s edge and Wanda gave Hope a sly look.

Hope shook her head as if she was so disappointed. “So have told Vince you’re keeping the pregnancy?”

“Nice change of subject, Van Dyne. And no, but I have to go in tonight to work the dinner shift and was going to see him after. There are some ground rules I want laid.”

“Good for you, Wanda.” Hope bumped her hip back and winked. “I know you have to go into tonight but did you want to go out to dinner with us and Scott and Luis to celebrate their signing? We have to do it early anyway because Scott is going to drop Cassie at her mom’s for the weekend.”

“We’re going to McDonalds!” Cassie beamed, clapping her little hands.

“Because apparently we are heathens.” Hope scoffed under her breath.

“Did Scott and Luis pick?” Wanda asked, and Hope nodded. “Thank you, but I have to catch the subway tonight since my chauffeur is not here to drive me around.”

“My fireman got peanut butter on him.” muttered her niece, presenting the toy to the adults above her with a look of familiar child frustration. Wanda knelt down and took the toy out her niece’s hand, making sure to avoid the peanut butter herself.

“Watch this,” she winked. Cassie let out a sweet laugh as Wanda licked the peanut butter of the fireman’s face.

“Gross!” Cassie giggled, her little face scrunching up delightedly.

Wanda kissed her cheek and handed the toy back. “All better!”

“Let us give you a ride, then, since your chauffeur isn’t here” Hope said, looking around.

“No, Hope-”

“Seriously Wanda, I will call Luis right now and tell him to tell you about his last trip to a museum. I heard there was a Van Gogh that just saved the day.” Her threat was emphasized by her hand planted on her hip and the tilt of her head.

“Fine.” Wanda conceded. “You always have the best threats. Let me go get dressed.”

Wanda started to walk back to her room, but cursed loudly in Sokovian when her pinky toe caught on one of the boxes littering the floor. “Ugh - God - Pietro! You refuse to take a shower, and now you’re leaving your shi- stuff everywhere? How many times have I told him to unpack?”

“Yeah, men’s stuff all over the floor. We wouldn’t know what that’s like, would we Cassie?” Hope looked at her Cassie, who giggled in agreement. “Why won’t he take a shower?” she laughed.

“Because my soap smells like coconuts and apparently that’s too much for him.”

“Ah, his poor masculinity,” moaned Hope in a mocking tone. But she stopped for a second to look around, before asking, “Huh. Where is Pietro anyway?”

_

**Where indeed?**

“Clean up on aisle four! And Austin get out of the bathroom, your break was over twenty minutes ago.”

**Currently, instead of driving his sister to work like he promised, Pietro was to be found zombie-walking up and down the aisles of a Babies Я Us.**

In complete honesty, Pietro couldn’t tell you what he was looking for, because he couldn’t tell you shit about babies. So he wandered up and down the aisles, taking in all the cribs and baby clothing that looked way too uncomfortable even if you were a baby and car seats and formula and the realization he was about to be an uncle.

_ “You’re never prepared for anything, boy.”  _ His old man’s voice echoed in his head.  _ “Your incompetence will be the undoing of us.” _

Pietro shuddered. He stood, staring at something called a Koala Baby Keep Me Near Bassinet (in two different colors, for parent’s convenience. Pietro rolled his eyes.)

“Why would someone need this?” he muttered to himself, then checked himself. Would Wanda want one? Hell,  _ no  _ \- probably. Wanda wasn’t big on flashy things, expect for her jewelry, and her makeup, and her wardrobe more red and black than was socially okay. Pietro shook his again and held up the plastic price tag in his hands, almost choking. “A hundred and nine fucking dollars for this- this crib thing?”

Pietro dropped the tag and took a step back in the sea of bassinets and cribs. His hands trembled in his pockets as he tried not to think about how much all of this shit cost - and was going to cost Wanda. How much of all this would she want? And was she okay with the cheaper brands? She could never afford this, and this was only the beginning. She still had eighteen more years with this kid. Eighteen more years of buying food, and clothes, and bigger beds, and soccer practice and soccer games - God she would probably end up driving a soccer van - paying for college and-

His fingers brushed by the note that was in his pocket, and Pietro pulled it out. Right. He’d come here with a purpose, and it wasn’t staring at this basket - bassinet, he corrected himself, like an idiot, thinking about money.

“Can I help you with anything, sir?” He turned, almost straight into a store clerk.

“Uh,” he stumbled back and shoved the note back in his pocket, like a child who had just been caught stealing candy from the check outline.

**And Pietro would know.**

The store clerk he’d run over stood a few inches smaller than him, with the same hazelnut hair and green eyes as... “Uh.”

“Are you finding everything alright, sir?” she asked again, with a little concern in her face. He blinked, and the face of his twin sister was gone, replaced by the face of a stranger.

Pietro straightened up and fumbled with the note in his pocket. “Uh, no.” She raised her eyebrows. “Thank you.” He added quickly.

“Well, if you need anything-” the clerk started with a flat American accent, not Sokovian, but Pietro waved her off. He pulled out the note and he watched out of the corner of his eyes as the store clerk went back to inventory of the furniture. He could have sworn… she looked exactly like-

_ “Focus, boy!”  _ his old man’s voice reminded him and Pietro swiveled on his heel and glued his eyes to the note.

“To find,” he read out loud, “a pregnancy book…” A book. Pietro could find a book. Pietro just had to find the book section.

From where he was standing in the middle of the furniture section.

“Nursery furniture, toys, baby food, car seats, strollers,” he whispered in Sokovian as he passed by the aisles. “bedding and room décor - what the fuck, ugh, diapers, feeding, bath and skin care, okay we must be getting closer, clothes and shoes, nursery furniture - are you  _ fucking _ kidding me?”

Pietro was back where he’d started.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” the Wanda-esque store clerk asked him from behind the koala basket.

“Yes!” he yelled in English. “Yes, I am sure!”

Walking faster now, Pietro followed the same path. Furniture, toys, baby food, car seats, strollers, crap for the beds, diapers, feeding, bath and skin care, clothes and shoes, nursery furniture - Pietro came back to the same spot and kicked one of display cribs, cursing.

“Why can’t I find this dumb book?”

The clerk was nowhere to be found - Thank God, and he kicked the crib again. With a shudder, it came crashing down into a pile of separate pieces.

“Right.” He said to himself, walking away from broken crib. “Display crib.” Meaning nothing was screwed in… at least properly.

**But Pietro definitely felt screwed.**

Pietro swallowed, looking around. No store clerk, no other shoppers. He knew running away at the speed of sound would probably more attention than he wanted in the quiet store, so he tiptoed away into one of the aisles and turning into another one.

_ “Boy, look at what you did.” _

“I’ll clean it up in a second.” he whispered in Sokovian, half as a promise, half to shake the voice of his old man out of his head. “After I find the books - oh. Huh.”

Pietro had found his way somehow to the back of the store. In front of him where the white bars of a bookshelf, with  _ actual  _ books on them. At a snail’s pace, because he was pretty sure if he just grabbed one off of the shelf it would fall apart like everything else in this store, he took one of the books.

“Magical Beginnings, Enchanted Lives, A Holistic Guide to Pregnancy and Childbirth.” The book title read. Pietro put it back. He wasn’t sure what “Holistic” meant, but it wasn’t the one he wanted.

Pietro picked another one off, reading the title out loud. “When You’re Expecting Twins, Trip- God, no.”

“You want the what to expect one.” Laura had told him when he’d called earlier during work. He quickly scribbled the name down onto his lunch receipt. “I’d give her mine, but I didn’t keep it. Plus, she might want an updated one.”

His fingers brushed the cover of several more books before he found one that said “What to expect.” Sighing, and cursing himself for not using Amazon, he grabbed it and flipped it open.

“What to Expect When You’re Expecting, the Fourth Edition. Okay, this is what she wants, right?” he asked no one. “It takes two baby,” he started reading, not really thinking, “something, something baby, healthier than ever,” he turned the page, “Rev up the romance? Turn up the heat with a little sexy nightie - steamy movie - a round of strip poker - what the  _ fuck _ ?”

Wasn’t this book supposed to be about  _ babies  _ and not what came before them? Shaking his head, and internally doubting if he should hand this porn over to his twin sister, and flipped a couple pages back. “Oh.” He squinted at the chapter title which read “Before You Conceive.” Well that had already been taken care of.

Pietro was about to put the book back and look for one not about sex when his pocket buzzed. He pulled out his phone to see the one selfie Wanda had managed to get with him.

“Hey.” he answered in Sokovian.

There was a familiar sigh on the other end of the line. “Hey.” Wanda responded. “Where are you?”

“Oh, uh” he stuttered, _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ a little heavier in his hands. “I had to run some errands after practice.”

“Did district got postponed again?” she asked. There were several other voices, one he recognized as his foster brother Scott, filtering in through the phone.

“Yes. I don’t know what Allen has going on that is so much more important, but he wants to move the race to next Tuesday.”

“So what errands are you running?”

“Nothing interesting.” he lied. “Are- are you going into work? Sorry I couldn’t take you, something uh, something came up. I can swing by the hotel with some dinner if you want-”

“It’s fine, Pietro. Hope is celebrating some modeling deal with Scott and Luis so I went with them and Cassie to McDonalds. They are taking me to work after. I have to talk to Vince.”

Pietro smirked. “McDonald’s? But you hate McDonalds.”

“I do, but it does not matter, I’ll end up throwing it up anyways.”

“Throwing it up anyways,” Pietro repeated, mostly for himself. He opened the book to the table of contents and to the page that had caught his snooping eyes earlier.

_ Morning Sickness _ , the page read, and Pietro smiled to himself as he found the page with a list of tips for relief. “I would not worry too much about it, baby sister.”

Pietro folded the top of the page for later, and flipped the book back to the table of contents. He was going to be there for a while.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode Three continued next :)
> 
> Bonus story, from my amazing beta who went to do some scouting at Babies R Us for me.  
> "K so my mom and I go past this guy, right, at gift registry and he goes "Are you finding everything okay?" And my mom starts, "Well, we were..." and then points to me and so I step up and go "I was wondering if y'all have a book aisle, for like, pregnancy books. Like What to Expect When You're Expecting."  
> "Um, no, sorry, we don't."  
> "Oh that's okay." A pause. "I'm not pregnant, by the way, I just-uh-"  
> "I didn't even think that." 
> 
> lol let's just say they had books at Pietro's Babies R Us. ;)


	5. Episode 3; Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda, having made a decision, now has to go tell Vince as the rest of her family- and his- argue about the best course of action to take. Meanwhile, how much trouble can Pietro Maximoff get into at Babies Я Us?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the next part to Episode 3 ~CS
> 
> A little forewarning, there is some uncensored Wade Wilson in this chapter, so just a little head's up.

**So while Pietro just browses** **_What to Expect When You’re Expecting,_ ** **things are unnaturally quiet over at** **_The Maria._ ** **Not someone’s about to find another body quiet, but you know, pretty quiet. Like a weird quiet- okay I’m getting off track.**

“Are you going to stare at your cellphone the  _ whole  _ shift?”

Even with her back turned, Carol could feel the heat of the glare Elektra sent Quill, most likely for bothering her with a stupid question.

“Are you going to spend yours asking stupid questions?”

Yep, Carol smiled to herself, called it.

She hitched one leg over the barstool next to Elektra. Quill was behind the bar again, opening a new box of shot glasses that had recently been delivered. The need for a new shipment was caused by one their dishwashers, Wade, who decided to show the other dishwashers how many times you could throw a shot glass on the floor before it broke.

The answer? Once, as it turned out.

At least cleaning up the glass and yelling at Wade (and seeing how many punches it took from Carol to bruise his Wade’s shoulder - the answer? One.) gave Carol, Quill, and the other waitresses something to do that wasn’t staring out into the empty open foyer of the restaurant.

Karen’s arrest had brought a storm cloud not just over, but into  _ The Maria.  _ Guests had canceled their reservations faster than the Titanic’s victims made for the lifeboats, leaving in their wake a dizzying kind of fear that made Carol want to vomit. And quit. Especially quit.

But that wasn’t new.

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” smirked Quill. A popping noise came from behind the bar suddenly, and Elektra narrowed her naturally narrowed eyebrows, hoisting herself up ever so slightly on the bar.

“Says the man playing with packaging wrap like a preschooler.”

He held a blue sheet of plastic bubbles. “It’s bubble wrap.” The tone of his voice was hurt, and Carol almost choked on her gum.

“Pathetic.” Elektra clicked her tongue.

“What are you even waiting for?” Another pop from Quill’s bubble wrap. Carol raised her eyebrow. He just nodded proudly.

“Karen’s lawyers are supposed to call tonight,” she explained for Elektra, then sighed, correcting herself when Elektra growled. “Sorry, they were supposed to call earlier today but you know-”

“Eh,” Quill shrugged, popping another bubble, “I never trust lawyers.”

“Ooh, there’s got to be a story behind that. You gonna open up or should I just go ask Gamora?” Carol asked, putting her best evil smile.

Quill didn’t even swallow or break out into a sweat. Instead, he popped three bubbles and shrugged again. “No story. Met a couple while back who were _total_ _douchebags_.”

“Looks like Karen’s lawyers might be right up their alley.” Carol glanced at Elektra’s gleaming black nails as the granite of the bar echoed from the tips she hit one at a time. “Speaking of total douchebags I heard Detective Grumpy’s coming back around tonight. Probably wants to interrogate us again.”

“God, I hope not. Gamora would freak.” shuddered Quill.

The tapping from Elektra’s nails and Quill’s popping filled the silence. Detective Barton, who had earned the name Detective Grumpy after the name Detective Stick Up His Butt was shot down because it was too long. Over the last week, each staff member had been called to the nearby precinct to give a testimony of what they saw or if anything was suspicious or if they noticed anything weird about Karen. Their answers tended to be, in this exact order: no, no, and no.

Meanwhile, there had been very little of their boss. He had locked himself in his office and every time an employee went to go ask him for something his answers were abrupt, quick, and dismissive. Carol had encountered this after trying to talk to him about Wanda.

“Listen,” she said, trying to keep up his focus. He was looking around her and behind himself and above her head and to the side, literally anywhere but her eyes, “Wanda wanted me to tell you she needs a few days off with her family. She’s…feeling under the weather.”

Well, it wasn’t a total lie. Maybe a lie by omission? And it wasn’t like Carol knew if Wanda had  _ actually  _ told Vince she was pregnant and needed days off. Out of everyone, including a bitchier than normal Elektra and an even more annoying Quill, Wanda had been acting odd and off center, so who knew if she’d been honest.

“Yes - I, I understand. Thank you-” Vince looked behind her again and Carol looked back too, trying to see if there was anybody back there. There wasn’t. “-for bringing this to my attention. Now if you’ll excuse me-” he trailed off, pushing past her. He never made eye contact once, and Carol watched him walk away, feeling like their conversation had been very one sided.

But she hadn’t seen Vince since and he never came asking about where Wanda was so she assumed he was either too busy with this whole murder deal to care or actually understood. Either way, at least Wanda was home and not here in this time bomb waiting to go off.

Elektra scolding Quill every four minutes was only one example of how tense  _ The Maria  _ staff was currently. Two days ago one of their mechanics, Rocket, both broke and fixed the lobby’s revolving door and threw a wrench at Hank when Hank suggested he didn’t have to replace the part instead of try to fix it, but that’s what he would do. Rocket had a habit of threatening people, but he never went through with them. And Hank was usually not as passive aggressive and probably had it coming to him. Cindy and Jessica Drew got in a huge argument when Cindy ate some of Jessica’s lunch like she did every other day, but Jessica chose that time to take it out on her friend. Carol also overheard Jean canceled a bunch of her “purely platonic” plans with Scott Summers because Scott had said Karen was lucky to be in jail and not having to work.

None of this tension would have been good for Wanda, her health, or her little embryo.

Wanda probably would’ve had her own tension to take out on the rest of the staff too, if she was here. Pregnancy messed with your head, and Carol understood how trippy the whole thing was. When she was pregnant with Theodore she spent the first three months thinking “ _ Wow, there’s a living human being growing inside of me. A living person who’s gonna breath and eat and sleep and dream and grow up.”  _ The worst part for Carol was trying to keep her explosive emotions under control. One minute she felt like she could just take off sprinting and launch into flight she was so happy, then a jarring split second later her fingers were curling into a fist aimed at one of the valets. And there was no break, no chance at breath of normal emotions that weren’t being influenced by hormones. Seeing the mother of the baby smile and tearing up because she was  _ finally _ having her own child, that was the light at the end of Carol’s tunnel. She could swallow her bitchy moods (at least for twenty or so minutes) when she was with Millie, because Carol knew she was lucky enough to be healthy enough to carry a human being for forty weeks.

And when he was born, it was all worth it. Carol got to proudly hand Millie and her husband and healthy baby boy to take home and love. Best part, she still got to see the little munchkin. (Not recently, thanks to this stupid motherfucking job and Stark’s stupid policies.)

Wanda…Wanda didn’t have an endgame for her insemination like Carol had with her surrogacy. It was the child of a stranger and the consequence of an accident. So Wanda was victim to all her symptoms without something to look forward to. Except the toilet bowl, according to her last text.

Carol bit her lip. Elektra was getting onto Quill about the bubble wrap again. The words “So, Wanda’s pregnant,” sat on Carol’s tongue. She sighed. It wasn’t her secret to tell.

“Quill,” Elektra threatened. “If you pop that thing one more time, I’m going to strangle you with it.”

Quill brought the bubble wrap over the bar at a snail’s pace. “Popppp…” he said, bringing his fingers down on a bubble, and just like that bubble, the tension exploded.

Carol jerked back out of the cross fire as Elektra launched herself over the bar. “Give me the damn packaging wrap Quill!”

“Jesus, get off me Elektra!” yelled Quill. Hiding the bubble wrap with one hand behind his back, he swatted at the furious waitress with the other hand. They looked like two cats fighting over a mouse. Or two toddlers fighting over the same toy.

“Ho, ho, holy crap. What’s going on over here?”

Carol tilted her head around Elektra to see Jean Grey carrying Jubilee piggy back style. Betsy, with her boyfriend Warren on her back, followed Jean and Jubilee. Peter Parker was trailing behind the two of them, carrying a camera at his side.

“GIVE IT TO ME, PETER QUILL!”

“NEVER ELEKTRA!”

“They are,” Carol looked from Quill and Elektra to the other group. “fighting over bubble wrap.”

“Sounds fun.” Jubilee smiled.

“What were you guys doing?”

“Chicken fights.” Warren said from Betsy’s back.

“Show ‘em the pictures, Parker.” Betsy asked Peter, bumping him on the hip.

Peter, blushing like a tomato, pulled out his camera and handed it to Carol. Elektra had let go of Quill’s shirt collar, but a bubble pop a minute later told them she did not win the battle.

“Huh.” Carol mused, looking at the pictures of Jubilee trying to push Warren of Betsy’s shoulders. From the picture it looked like she and Jean were winning. “Don’t you guys have work to be doing?”

“That’s some big talk coming from you. You’re just sitting around watching Leks and Quill fight over bubble wrap. And besides, there’s nobody here.” shrugged Betsy.

“Elektra’s supposed to hear from Karen’s lawyers tonight.” Carol explained.

Jean nodded, her mouth forming an oh. As Jubilee slid off her back, Jean started to ask why she hadn’t been contacted earlier like she was supposed to, when a loud voice interrupted them from behind.

“Hey! Did someone take down my Ryan Reynolds People Cover from the Bernard Board? Was it Logan.? I bet it was Logan. I knew that Australian motherfucker had it out for me. And by had it out for me, I mean has a crush on me. Sorry Logan, but I can’t love people who disrespect 2010’s sexiest man alive.”

Carol threw her head down on the bar with a thunk. “Wade, for the last time, Logan  _ isn’t  _ Australian.”

“That’s what you think.” The dishwasher plopped himself onto the barstool next to Elektra, who moved her barstool a few inches over. “But  _ I  _ know differently. Am I right, hon?”

**You right, Wade. You right.**

“See?” Wade said, gesturing to the ceiling. Carol looked around. Nothing had been said.

“Weirdo.” She whispered under her breath.

“Who are you talking to?” asked Warren with his eyebrows raised.

“Her!” Wade gestured again at nothing, and it was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes.

“He does that.” Peter told them, taking his camera back from Carol’s hands.

She whispered under her breath again. “I wish he wouldn’t.” Carol and Wade had an odd relationship (In truth, Wade had a weird relationship with everyone.) She suspected one of the only reasons they ever talked was because Wade, being pansexual, was one of the only people who could understand the erasure Carol experienced as an asexual.

But that didn’t change the fact that he was annoying as fuck.

“Is that bubble wrap?” Wade was asking Quill. “Ah, the packaging equivalent of touching yourself.”

Betsy and Jean gagged simultaneously while Quill hesitantly handed Wade the bubble wrap. Silence enveloped the group, the only exception being the popping of the bubble wrap and the look of death Carol could again practically hear from Elektra.

Pop.

Carol cringed.

Betsy, Warren still hanging on her back, Jean, and Jubilee exchanged a look.

Pop.

The sound of Elektra’s manicured nails dragging across the marble echoed off the ceramic floors.

Pop.

She couldn’t take it anymore - the silence was enough to send Carol flying the fuck to the moon.

“So,” the words were flying off her tongue before she could process what she was saying, “Wanda’s pregnant.”

Pop.

“What?” Jean’s mouth fell open. Peter gasped, and the camera flew out of his hands and hit the floor with a crunch.

“Holy shit!” Jubilee’s bubblegum bubble burst. The color drained out of Quill’s face at light speed. Elektra looked up, her eyeballs on the verge of popping out her head.

“I didn’t even know she was seeing anyone!” Betsy yelled, sending Warren flying off her back. “How the hell did she get knocked up?”

“Ow, Bets!” whined Warren from the floor.

Carol sucked in a breath, cringing. This is what she got for opening her big fat mouth.

**Yeah, Carol, so much for not your secret to tell.**

“Best friend, and can’t even keep her secret. What a shit deal, CS.” muttered Wade, again directed at the ceiling.

Carol narrowed her eyes, but Peter’s exasperation beat her to it. Waving his arms and the camera he’d picked back up, he yelled, “ _ Who  _ are you talking to?”

**Shhh….**

Out of nowhere, Wade winked off into the distance. Peter threw up his hands again.

“Can we please get back to the part,” Betsy was saying, “where Wanda Maximoff, the woman who keeps denying every single man we’ve tried to set her up with, is  _ pregnant _ ?”

“Booty call maybe? That might be her thing? Pretty kinky, good for her.” Betsy shrugged and Jean choked on her laughter.

“Damn Wanda get some.” Quill muttered under his breath.

“Do you guys want to know what really happened or what?” sighed Carol, putting her hands on her forehead.

There was a simultaneous nod from everyone there, excluding Wade who was back to playing with the bubble wrap and making weird sensual noises. Ignoring Wade’s grunts, Carol took a deep breath.

“Okay, so three weeks ago, the morning after the gala, I’m pretty sure - anyways Wanda went to Dr. Cho’s for a pap smear.” They nodded for her to continue, and she took another deep breath. “But there was a mix-up in the system, or something, cause they thought she was scheduled for an intrauterine insemination-”

“An intra what?” Quill asked. His furrowed eyebrows made him look as confused as a fifth grader getting the sex talk.

“An intra-uter-ine in-sem-in-ation.” Carol over enunciated every word purposefully, feeling a sense of evil glee as his confused face morphed into one of irritation. “It’s basically where they take a guy’s sample, his sperm, and put it up the woman so she can get pregnant. Some infertile couples do it, even though in vitro fertilization tends to have a higher success rate.”

“Okay now you’re just making up words.” mumbled Quill.

“Long story short the doctor accidently knocked Wanda up with another man’s sperm. She doesn’t even know the guy, apparently.”

“Oh shit, cruel irony.” Wade laughed.

**Wilson that’s my line.**

Jean puffed her cheeks up and blew out some air. “Wow that’s-”

“Rather unfortunate.” finished Elektra. She’d gone back to staring a hole in her cell phone. Warren was whispering something to his girlfriend that Carol thought sounded like “Isn’t this the story of the Virgin Mary?”

Carol nodded towards Warren, but Betsy looked at him and mouthed “shut up”.

“So,” nodded Quill. “Karen’s in jail for not stabbing the shit of a guy and Wanda’s knocked up. Who’s next?” he looked around the bar expectantly.

“Who is next for what?” a refined British voice asked from behind them. Spinning around in her barstool, Carol came face to face with her boss. She inwardly grimaced. They’d just been caught fucking around by their boss and technically they  _ were _ on the clock.

“We were just talking about,” Carol looked around, her desperation in her throat, for help from her other coworkers looking just like she did - a deer caught in the head lights. Their freakishly tall employer crossed his arms and Carol heard Peter swallow. “one of the waitress just got pregnant. She was…accidently inseminated, so…” she trailed off, shrugging.

“Oh.” Vince’s face softened. “Yes, I was aware. Wanda, I believe it was, if I am correct in assuming?”

Carol bit her lip, and nodded. So Wanda  _ had  _ told him about the pregnancy.

“She had put in for vacation time. I hope she will be back with us very shortly.” said Vince. His voice was… oddly sincere. Yeah, the man was nice, but it was usually the politeness that came along with being British. Maybe leftover feelings from high school.

_ These two kids,  _ Carol thought to herself,  _ they’re going to be the death of me. _

“Yeah. We hope so too.” she told Vince.

Then Wade was handing their _ boss _ the blue plastic. “Bubble wrap?”

“I think I will decline that offer.” Vince looked from Wade, to the bubble wrap, and back to Wade, a concerned look on his face.

“Gotta say,” Jean spoke up. “It’ll be nice to have something other than Karen to worry about. Though all this worrying about you guys is probably going to make me break out.” she laughed, mostly to herself.

“At least Wanda’s _new_ _glow_ will give us something else to talk about.” Betsy said off the fly.

A shadow passed over Vince’s features all of sudden and he straightened, gaining an inch. (Was that  _ even _ possible?) “Perhaps it would be best, if I let you all resume your work.”

They watched him walk away, Warren whispering something about him being “literally the most stoic statue.” Wade wiggled his own shoulders. “He has got the  _ broadest  _ motherfucking shoulders.”

“What is wrong with you?” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. Carol snorted. He sounded like the parent of misbehaving third grader.

“Hey don’t take it personally,” Wade waved him off. “You have the  _ prettiest  _ shoulders.”

Peter put on his best pouty face. Warren was the next to speak, probably breaking some unwanted one sided flirting from Wade. “Sometimes I think that guy is like, Jesus or something.”

“Eh, my money’s on robot.”

**Ahem.**

“Sorry, android. Same diff.” Wade said, popping the bubble wrap again.

“Who is a robot?” someone behind them asked. Carol sucked in a breath. This time the accent was feminine and Sokovian.

_ Not again,  _ Carol inwardly cursed as everyone turned to Wanda with the same look of apprehension.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her mouth tilted up in a slight unknowing smile. Interestingly enough, she had a lollipop in her mouth.

“Can I say it?” Wade asked his ceiling.

**Sure, Wade.**

“Irony you cock sucking bitch.”

 

_

Wanda was mad - well, furious, at Carol for only about five minutes.

When Scott and Hope had dropped her off at work after her kidnapping and promised trip to McDonald’s (it was cute to watch Cassie so joyful over her happy meal, a tad creepier with Luis, but Wanda knew her morning sickness was going to have the best time with the “salad” she’d forced down later that night.) and Wanda walked into  _ The Maria _ ’ _ s  _ restaurant, nursing one her morning sickness lollipops, to find her coworkers staring at her and the puppy dog look on Carol’s face, she knew exactly what had happened.

“Why,” Quill had said, his voice tense, “What a lovely glow you’ve had recently...” He gave her a tight lipped smile and ceased blinking.

“You’re looking great, by the way.” Betsy added when no one said anything. She clapped her hands together and looked around at the others, nodding furiously like a school teacher to her students. “Right guys?” They nodded in tandem, everyone looking like their shirts had shrunk two sizes small since she’d walked in, except Wade Wilson. Carol threw her hands up in the air.

“Carol?” Wanda folded her arms.

“Yes?” Her voice was an octave higher than usual as she avoided Wanda’s gaze.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Carol crumbled, folding in on herself. “Okay, fine! I told them. But I had to, Wanda, it was all silent and Wade wouldn’t stop popping that  _ fucking  _ bubble wrap-” her desperate gaze turned into one of rage channeled at Wade, “-and it just kind of…slipped out…I guess. I’m sorry. They were going to find out eventually, though!” Carol gestured to Wanda’s stomach with wild hands.

“I know.” Wanda sighed, her hands on her hips, and counted to ten. She knew that it did have to happen, she had a month, maybe two, tops before it became a secret she could no longer shield. She took a deep breath. “Come on, give me your belt, I’m taking over the rest of your shift.”

“Wait, really?” she asked, doing as she was told. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay enough to be-”

“Yes, Danvers, I am feeling fine.” It was one of those moments Wanda was grateful for her accent, as it made her sound angrier than she truly felt.

Carol tossed the apron and notebook into Wanda’s outstretched hand. Everyone else’s eyes were trained on her, glaring a hole in her stomach. Wanda bit down her lollipop and swallowed the urge to yell at them.

“Think you’ll being okay enough tomorrow?” Carol was asking. “I’m going to take you to the gym.”

Wanda almost choked on the candy. “What, Carol, why?”

“Sucks to be you…” Warren said under his breath. Betsy let out a snicker.

“Because you need to be healthy right now, for your own sake, and I’m going to help you. It will be good for you and your little embryo. Oh, I know, we can do Zumba!”

“What, no I don’t - I do not want to work out, Danvers! And, and why with you?”

“Ouch.” Wade laughed.

“You’re pregnant, not terminally ill!” Hearing Carol yell “you’re pregnant” seemed so odd to her; it was as if the words themselves made it a reality. “I can help you with what you need to do to prepare for labor.” Carol ignored Wade’s comment, reaching over Quill’s bar. Wanda’s morning sickness kicked her in the stomach, and she grasped her stomach. She hadn’t even thought about labor, and hearing Carol simply toss the word around made her knees weak.

“Carol, that is eight months away!” she protested.

Carol pulled out her keys from behind the bar and hopped down. “Never too early to be ready. Trust  _ me _ , Maximoff!” She added as she walked away.

“With what?” Wanda yelled after to her friend. “A secret?”

But Carol was waving at her as she walked off, and Wanda’s shoulders slumped. “Yes?” she spit, when she realized the rest were still staring her down.

“Nothing.” One of them muttered, and Quill began to whistle the tune to  _ Hooked on a Feeling.  _ It was all she could not roll her eyes and all she could not to crumble to her knees as she walked away from their stare, clutching her stomach.

**You see while it should be noted Wanda can be short with the people she works with, and if the bubble wrap is any indication then I can’t say I blame her, she wasn’t usually this short with them. Pregnancy. It can be a bitch.**

**It can also make you one.**

Wanda never planned to stay with the bar vigil that night. Looking at the address written on her hand, Wanda’s feet carried her to the numbers softened at the edge. Blurred, as it turned out, but still permanent.

She took a deep breath, counted to ten, and rapped softly on the door that bore the same address as her palm.  _ You can do this.  _ The thought was the strongest and yet the weakest amongst all the others bouncing around in her chaotic mind.  _ You can do this, breathe… _

“Coming!”

Wanda’s heart sped up tenfold when she heard the metallic clicks of the door unlocking. Maybe this wasn’t this best plan…she could try later, or tomorrow.

No. She was brave. She was a survivor. And this was  _ nothing  _ compared to what she had lived and breathed through. It was nothing compared to what she had conquered. So Wanda stood her ground, fighting the familiar twisting of her stomach.

The door swung open, and there he was. Not adorned in one of his expensive dress shirts Wanda could spill something on or in his black hat, but in a simple long sleeved shirt with little white buttons on the top. Wanda’s chest relaxed.

“Miss Maximoff.” Upon seeing her standing there, his inhuman eyes lit up. Guilt, poised in her lower abdomen, surged out like ice through her veins. She’d kept him waiting long enough.

Wanda allowed herself a small smile and held her palm out for him to see the blurred marker as if it were the answer.

“You came,” he stuttered, “I- I was under the impression you were visiting with family. Forgive me for my informality, but I believed I wouldn’t be hearing from you for quite some time.”

She nodded, her fingers crossed behind her back. “It was a nice vacation, but I needed to be at work.”

Time, in its infancy, stood perfectly still as Wanda stood there in front of Vince in his buttoned shirt. He was staring at her, his gaze washing over her from head to toe, with those inhuman eyes. She shivered, fighting the urge to hold her belly. Wanda had given the last word and in its place rang an empty silence, but still he said nothing. He only looked at her.

Dizziness overtook her in the moment. Swaying a centimeter on her heels, she took in a gulp of air before steadying herself.  _ Count to ten. It’s your body, this is just going to have to wait for a damn minute because I’m trying to help it - and now is not the time to vomit.  _ Standing in front of the surprise father of her surprise baby, the urge was more persistent than ever.

Her little fall broke Vince’s stare, and he reached out a quick hand to steady her. His gentle grip was warm on her shoulder, but another shiver fell through her spine.  _ Count to ten. _

“I should - you should-” It was this moment- she could see him take his own deep breath - that it dawned on her he was just as nervous as Wanda was. If he truly wanted the child growing inside her - and the irresolute look on his face was telling enough - then she  _ literally _ held all the power in this moment. She held the answer to his only question. “Would you like to come in?” Another deep breath, and this one gave him a sense of calm. He stood up to his full height, (Wanda bit her lip to keep from laughing; the memory of him slouching constantly while she was with him in high school came flooding in) and relaxed his shoulders as he stepped aside to let her into his suite.

“Sorry for this mess. It’s rare I get company.” he told her, coming up behind her.

Wanda narrowed her eyes. She was a woman who knew messy, who knew chaotic, but this - his suite - was the opposite of a mess. The main room (she could see closed doors leading to other rooms) was twice as grand as the regular guest rooms of  _ The Maria  _ and much larger than her own apartment. Vince called it his suite, but Wanda sensed this room alone bordered on a penthouse. A  _ clean  _ penthouse. There littered no unwashed dishes on his silver coffee table, no cat hair on the velvet burgundy sofa or leather ottoman, no tiny mountains of laundry or half unpacked cardboard boxes she could trip over. The clean scent of freshly laundered sheets floated through the air and the familiar smell of old books tickled her nose. Volume after volume lined tall mahogany bookshelves. He must’ve had over a hundred…

She felt his minute movements as his blue eyes watched her walk. Humility, she sensed from him. The words dancing on the tip of her tongue were going to be harder to say than she thought.

“It’s fine.” she breathed.

Wanda took another trip around the room, Vince was standing always opposite from her, folding his hands in nervousness, when something on the coffee table caught her eye. Stacks of napkins on the corner of the coffee table, scratched up by what looked like pencil sketches.

“What are these?” asked Wanda, wanting to break the silence. She made a grab for the napkins, but in the fastest she’d ever seen him, Vince appeared there and swept the napkins into his hands. “Nothing,” he muttered quickly, “They are of no importance.”

It was too late. She’d already seen them. Looking up with a small smirk, she found herself teasing, “Is that me?”

Vince grip on the napkins softened. His head fell.

“Why were you drawing me?” Curiosity had sparked in her veins, and something identical to flattery.

“The night of the party,” he began, “when you and I collided-”

“You mean when I spilled champagne all over you and ruined your nice shirt?” Wanda smirked again.

To her surprise, he let out a warm laugh and shook his head ever so slightly. “I promised you, Miss Maximoff, my shirt survived the encounter.”

Time froze again, except this time, Wanda’s little “it” didn’t overtake her in a storm of dizziness. She felt in her chest a warm friendliness standing in front of this man. He was staring at her once again, and she blinked, realizing she still held her smile.

“Anyways,” The silence broken, he continued. “I admit I didn’t immediately recognize you, but I was certain I knew you from somewhere. I hope it does not offend you, but I was only drawing your profile as a way to - to jog my memory.”

Wanda nodded in understanding, but there was a part of her, most of her truthfully, that wanted to see his drawings again. She’d only stolen a glimpse - caught the outline of her profile, her shadowed eyes, the cheekbones she wanted to rub right off her face - before he could sweep them away. A lump in her throat formed. It didn’t look like he wanted to show her, he was shoving the napkins in his pocket hastily. “That would explain the yearbook.” Wanda pointed to the open yearbook on his coffee table, flipped to the picture of them in Ms. Harkness’ workroom.

“Oh, I pulled the yearbook out after you approached me last week.” clarified Vince, like it was nothing. He was popping his knuckles, and then fiddling with that topaz ring again.

The couch cushion sunk as Wanda took a seat. Watching him, she was tempted to fiddle with the rings on her own fingers. Her voice was shaky when she spoke next, “I am sorry for being so awful to you when you first started with Ms. Harkness.”

“Pardon?” Vince looked up at her with surprised eyes and raised eyebrows.

His British accent echoed off the ceil walls just as echoed off the tile of the indoor pool when she had last spoken.

_ “I remembered you despised me at first.” _

She remembered too.

“I was kind of, no, really, a bitch.” She didn’t stop to let overthink the very real reality that she just called herself a bitch in front of her boss.

**Huh. So maybe it isn’t just pregnancy. Oh well.**

Vince continued to stare at her with those wide blue eyes, until finally he took a seat opposite her on the ottoman and folded his hands. Letting out a strained breath, Wanda’s own shoulders slumped in relief in that his expression went from one of nervousness (his nerves were only electrifying her own) into a serious demeanor.

“I harbor no hard feelings, Miss Maximoff. I wasn’t the most pleasant person to work with either.”

His sincere words weren’t meant to be funny, but Wanda couldn’t help but laugh. A small smile came over his features, adding to a pleasant buzz in her chest.

The light from the ceiling reflected off his topaz ring as he brought it up to his temple. He paused only before a moment, before standing again. “Do you, would you like something to drink. There might be wine or-”

“I cannot drink, remember? I can’t drink alcohol.” Wanda stopped him immediately in his tracks. The light came back to his eyes in a flash. He was swallowing the meaning of her words.

“Miss. Maximoff, do you mean that-”

“ _ Sweet dreams are made of this, who I am disagree, I travel the world and the seven seas _ -” A blush overtook Wanda’s a face with a ferocity when both she and Vince came to the same conclusion. Her phone, while she was in the middle of talking to her  _ boss,  _ was ringing. She grabbed it out of her skirt pockets and stumbling over her words, trying to explain her brother was calling again and that it would probably be safer to take it.

“I’m sorry-” she stuttered, fumbling with the phone, “I promise it is almost always on vibrate.”

Vince only gave her a small nod, and the next second she was bringing the phone to her ear.

“ _ What? _ ” she yelled into the phone in harsh Sokovian.

_ “In a bad mood already? _ ” her brother replied. “ _ Damn, it’s only been three weeks. That was fast. _ ”

“ _ Pietro- what do you want? _ ” growled Wanda. Vince, his pale eyebrows raised, was giving her a skeptical look, his hands folded and his head resting on his chin, watching her as she went off on her brother.

“ _ Jesus, Wanda, I just had a question. _ ”

_ “What is it? And why didn’t you just text? _ ”

_ “I did text you. Four times. You didn’t answer. _ ”

“ _ I am at work!” _

_ “That’s never stopped you from texting back before on your shift. I’m surprised your ass hasn’t gotten fired before-” _

_ “Pietro! _ ” Wanda threw her head into her hand.  _ “What is it? This is not a good time! This really, really is not a good time! _ ” A feeling of gratitude washed over in that moment, Vince’s otherworldly eyes on her, that she was speaking a language he couldn’t follow.  

_ “Look. You like grape flavor? Not strawberry?” _

_ “That’s what you’re calling me to ask me?!?”  _ Every molecule in her being wanted to throw up her hands in the air and scream.

_ “Well, yeah. _ ” he deadpanned. She  _ was  _ going to scream.

_ “Oh my God.” _

_ “So what is it, Wanda? Strawberry, or grape?” _

Throwing her head back, she bit her tongue. “ _ Strawberry! I can’t believe you even had to call ask me! I swear to God I don’t understand how I have put up with you for 26 years and you still don’t -  can’t - remember that! _ ”

“ _ Well shit, _ ” he said, and she could picture the delighted smirk on his stupid face. “ _ you are moody. _ ”

“ _ I’m hanging up now. _ ”

_ “Have fun, baby sister.” _

_ “I hate you.” _

_ “Couldn’t have said it better.” _ The noise signaling the call had ended rang in Wanda’s ears for a few long seconds after. Her lips still pursed in anger, she shoved the phone back in her pocket. Wanda took another deep breath and willed the color from her face to drain.

“Is everything alright?” Vince, his voice hesitant, unfolded his hands and continued to stare at her.

She shivered again. “Yes- my brother, he can…he can be an idiot at times.”

“I forgot you had a brother.” For a fraction of a second, an unreadable look had taken over his features. Wanda blinked, and it was gone, as if had never existed at all. “Peter, was it?”

“No, no! Pietro. Pietro.” Wanda corrected with no hesitance. “Don’t call him Peter, he hates that.” Vince nodded, eyes wide. Wanda breathed out through her nose before continuing. “But yes, I have a brother. A twin, actually, but he, he is…”

“Quite different than you?” posed Vince, the ghost of a smile on his face.

Laughter danced on her lips. “In a way. He is - can be - a moron but he is really all I have ever known, being my twin and all. He is incredibly protective and stubborn, so…but I’ve been told those are traits we share.”

“Those are not dishonorable traits to have, Miss. Maximoff.” He twisted his topaz ring again. “I personally could never imagine having - having a twin. What an odd thought? To be born with another person?”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” The pull to smile was winning her over. He reflected such genuine interest she couldn’t help but beam.

Vince was quiet after she asked, and the silence was beginning to give her vertigo when he spoke again. Rubbing his left shoulder, his voice was barely a whisper. “A brother, but…but I have not seen him in many years.”

“Oh.”

Again the strained calm enveloped the two of them. Wanda, now in the quiet could hear the peaceful lull of blues coming from a speaker she couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe Chet Baker? She never was one for jazz or blues, but it was nice in the moment, and a safety from the awkwardness. The smirk returned. “Jazz, huh?”

“Huh?” He blinked at her, the lost look in his eyes still haunting him.

“You are playing jazz.” Wanda reminded him. She gestured to where she could hear the sound.

That broke his daydream, and he came to reality with her. “Oh, yes, the jazz, I was listening to it…before you came. I can turn it off if you want-”

“No!” She put up her hand, stopping him from standing fully. “It is fine. I like it. You - you don’t have to turn it off. I just - I never would have guessed you were into jazz.” 

His skin had turned a shade of scarlet as he sat back on the ottoman, and Wanda bit her lip in guilt.  _ Nice job, Maximoff. You embarrassed the poor man. _

“It was a suggestion from a close friend of mine.” Vince went. “But I have to say that this is my favorite of his recommendations.”

The same smile pulled at her again. “Are his other recommendations that terrible?” she teased.

“They border on disastrous.” Vince laughed, a warm and sincere sound harmonizing with the sweet melody of the jazz.

She gulped. This had to be a Chet Baker song, she was  _ sure  _ of it now.

“Are - are you into music?” asked Vince, and it was Wanda’s turn to fiddle with her rings.

“Um, yes.” Why wouldn’t she be. “I’m into all kinds of music really.” Wanda answered so he wouldn’t have to ask. “I’ve never been into jazz music, though.”

“This would be a first, then?”

“Yes,” she twisted her mother’s wedding ring so the jewel was sparkling in the white light. “It would be.”

“Miss Maximoff, do I - do I have permission to inquire about something.”

Wanda tilted her head, biting back the laugh that bubbled in her throat. She couldn’t say she’d ever been asked to ask a question, much less in the way he did it. Another part of her mind burned with this wish:  _ Please let this not be about it - the baby - please I don’t think I’m there yet… _  She nodded her consent, but not before she asked her own. “Yes, if I can ask you one before that?”

“Why, of course.”

“Why do you keep calling me Miss Maximoff? You can call me Wanda, you know?” Wanda couldn’t help the tease in her voice. It was some desperate attempt in her to disseminate the awkwardness between them, and to swallow her own fear.

“I,” he paused, as if he decided his first answer wasn’t satisfactory. “I apologize if I overstepped a line. It was meant to be a sign of respect.”

_ Really?  _ Wanda let a Sokovian curse word under her breath. His answer should not have surprised her, he was like the poster icon for a British gentleman, but it was occurring to her in that second that this, this incredibly polite and respectful human being, was the father of her child. In the ten minutes she’d been in his penthouse, she thought back to it, he opened the door for her, offered her a drink, and called her by her surname just because he wanted to be polite. Just how lucky was she that he was the father? Even if she been inseminated with a stranger’s sperm, at least he was the stranger.

Squeezing her eyelids hard, Wanda willed the tears away.  _ Dammit, not now, damn pregnancy hormones. Count to ten… count to ten… Don’t let this control you. He still is a stranger. _

“But I can call you Wanda, if you would like.” he added.

Now less of one. It was progress, at least.

“Yeah,” she coughed, trying to cover her ugly sniffling, “that would probably be better. Considering the circumstances.”

“The circumstances.” Vince repeated in a whisper.

Wanda knew what his next question was going to be, but between her near breaking point of tears and the gentle jazz music floating around her, simultaneously calming her nerves and making her hyper-aware of the pressure on her stomach (a new symptom she was finding accompanied passing her three-week mark) she wondered just how much longer she could stall. She felt the coolness of her rings on the pads of her fingers as she ran them over in familiar habit.

“Do you remember,” she asked, eyes still on her rings, “when we first met?”

Vince’s shoulders straightened at her words, and when she finally looked at him, a curious look had crossed his face. He almost looked amused. “It is coming back to me. I vaguely remember how angry you were that I was even there.”

“Don’t take it personally. I was angry all the time back then. Not much has actually changed.”

Vince laughed again, that friendly familiar laugh. “You no longer look at me like you want me dead,” he shook his head, but the smile stayed, “and I appreciate that.”

“Hey,” she planted her hands on her hips and feigned protest. “I only looked at you like that on the first day.”

“More like the first couple of weeks.” A glint of mischief shone in his blue eyes.

“No I did not!” she scoffed. The glint in his eyes stayed as he continued to chuckle. Wanda breathed easier. The awkwardness was disappearing amongst his laughter. “Fine. Maybe for the first couple of days.”

“It only got worse when I organized the workroom. You were furious.” He added.

A fleeting memory passed through Wanda’s mind. She remembered. “I remember you messed up my perfect system.”

“Messed it up? I believe I fixed it.” His voice full of faux pride, Vince was still fighting back his laughter.

“I had everything organized! I could find anything I needed!” she insisted, leaning forward.

“Miss. Maximoff,” it was his turn to tease her, “even you could not find anything in that mountain of chaos.”

“Okay, fine! You’re right, I could not even find the trash can.”

Wanda slumped into the couch, and they both burst into unexpected laughter. For a moment, Wanda could forget why she was there. They were just two friends, reliving stupid high school memories.

Relief flood her veins when Vince chose continue to relive the memories instead of ask about the baby. As he spoke of the time their counselor and mentor caught the two of them napping (Vince had pulled an all-nighter doing God knows what while Wanda had stayed up to three in the morning studying for a U.S. History test), a reoccurring event that happened once every couple of weeks, she noticed how he was more relaxed: his shoulders no longer tensed when she spoke and he had finally stopped calling her Miss Maximoff.

“It amazes me to this day she didn’t fire us.” Vince remarked, and Wanda found herself laughing again. She leaned on the back of the couch, and she was no longer fumbling with her rings.

“She only wanted to keep us around to keep an eye on us.”

Vince’s eye lit up again with laughter. “Did we ever do any real work?”

“No we did not.” She shook her head, cheeks aching from smiling.

Wanda paused, tapping her knee with a finger. Vince rubbed his neck again, and took a deep breath. Wanda took her own, grounding herself in her surroundings before nausea had a chance to return. She focused on the velvet on her fingertips as she played with the fabric of the couch, the familiar smell of books, and the slow tempo of the music.

“ _ I fall in love too terribly hard, _ ” the male vocalist sang, sending a shiver up her spine. “ _ For love to ever last.” _

“But we did have fun.” Vince said after a moment.

Their conversation continued, floating into the calm night air and mixing with the melody of the jazz music. Vince talked about the time Wanda talked him out of reorganizing Ms. Harkness’ entire office and the one time she “accidentally” locked him in the janitor’s closet (“But it  _ was  _ an accident!” “You left me in there for a whole period!” “Because I was trying to find someone who could get you out!”) Wanda reminded him of time she got in a fight with the library aid because they refused to give her the key to free Vince from the janitor’s closet. Laughter echoed with their memories and words.

But even as they talked and they became less and less of strangers to one another and more like friends, the weight still pressed on Wanda and her abdomen.

“ _ My heart should be well schooled, _ ” the lyrics of his speaker sang to her,  _ “cause I’ve been fooled in the past…” _

**Ah, don’t you just love jazz?**

**_**

**Also currently happening in The Maria, down the hall, take a left, a right, past the lobby, stairs, and elevator, through the restaurant, and by the bar, Clint Barton was back, baby.**

**Much to the chagrin of** **_every employee there_ ** **.**

**Not that he cared though.**

“Look,” the bartender was saying to one the waitresses, “Gamora bought me a whole bunch of toy dinosaurs. Oh cool, there’s even velociraptors in here!”

“Why?” The waitress flicked her wrist. She was focused more on the red cell phone in front of her than the two other employees trying to talk to her.

“Because he was begging for them at the store.” A woman, supposedly Gamora, appeared behind the bar next to the bartender.

“I got a bag of gummy worms too, want some?” the bartender then brandished, as promised, a half rolled up bag of candy and tossed it in front of the waitress, who pushed it back with her manicured fingernails.

“No thanks. Too much sugar.” She shook her head.

“More for me then.” The bartender unraveled the bag, the plastic crunching under his fingertips, and unwound some of the gummy candy. He then dangled a few above his mouth for the other two waitresses to see.

Clint watched them from the other the edge of the restaurant. When he had come in that night, he was mildly surprised to find they had no patrons. The guests, who were mostly undeterred business men and women, inched in and out of their rooms on their quiet way to the indoor pool or gym and were few, and scattered away from the restaurant and bar.

“Gross, Peter.” scolded Gamora.

“Wanna see how many I can fit in my mouth?”

“No!” both waitresses shouted simultaneously.

**I kind of do.**

Clint had this night chosen specifically to come and do some more observing. He hadn’t had a chance to come back since the day of Daniel Fisher’s murder and do some more preliminary investigating, or, as Laura liked to call it, sneaking around.

Between Wanda getting  _ pregnant  _ and everybody losing their shit over the fact that she had gotten pregnant, on top of the mix-up in getting their warrant, the case had been on hold in Clint’s mind in the past few days.

So yeah, he, like everyone else, was in a state of denial about his foster daughter’s pregnancy. Clint was the one, however, who could close his eyes and still see that scared little fourteen-year-old girl, clinging to her twin like he was her life force, shivering in that shitty hotel in Sokovia as they waited in the night for the news their visas had been approved. He opened his eyes, and twelve quick years later, that same orphaned girl was a woman tearing herself up over another man’s baby. All she wanted was to make the right decision - for everyone.

Clint was at the same time proud of the hard decision Wanda made, but the vein in his neck popped at the thought of anything happening to her.

Speaking of the father of this baby, Clint looked around the restaurant again, straining his head to see into the lobby. He looked for the shadow of the manager, one Vincent Anderson, but didn’t see the guy. Clint had been hoping to corner him (though how he could pull that off he wasn’t really sure, because the boss man had at least 4 inches on him) for the list of every accounted employee on the day of the murder. Vincent Anderson was  _ supposed  _ to have emailed it to him the night they took Fisher’s body out of the hotel, but his inbox remained full of spam from his sergeant and grocery lists from Laura instead.

But there was a reason the manager was probably AWOL. As the unconsented father of the kid Wanda was carrying, Clint could see how the murder took a place on the back burner. He’d be a hypocrite not to.

“Sif, sefen, eif, niagh, gen,” The bartender loaded gummy worm after gummy worm into his mouth. Gamora punched in the shoulder before declaring, “Quill! When you choke to death I’m  _ not  _ doing the Heimlich!”

**I think that’s called “Abdominal thrusts” now. Copyright law, it’s rough man.**

“And I’m going to sit here and watch.” the other waitress added.

Clint laughed to himself for a few seconds, reviewing the facts in his mind. His foster daughter worked at hotel owned by one of his other foster sons, and her boss who Clint needed to interrogate, friends of said son most likely, was the father of his future, for lack of better term, grandchild, (Clint had to face that he and Laura were probably going to be the closest thing the kid had to grandparents, no matter whatever was going on with the father’s parents) that Wanda was currently pregnant with. The whole thing just seemed so weird to him.

**Yeah… strange how you’re all intertwined like that. How strange indeed…**

Well if Vincent Anderson wasn’t going to come around, Clint sighed, that meant finding him. There went his edge. (At this point, Laura would have smiled and called him a dork, giving him a shove to do his job.) With as much detachment as he could muster, Clint slouched over to three at the bar.

The tagalong waitress was tying her long dark hair into a tie when Clint recognized her. The waitress who’d stopped him and Bishop when they were trying to talk to that one valet. What was her name again? Emily? Elizabeth?

“Elektra,” the bartender, who’s name Clint had put together as Peter Quill or some other arrangement of that. He had finished swallowing with a record of fourteen gummy worms and had brought back out the bag of plastic dinosaurs. “There’s even a pterodactyl! And he looks like you, so angry! Awwh-”

“Give me that, Quill!” Elektra growled and snatched the toy out of his hand. She turned in the barstool, her elbow bent back to throw the toy out, when she came face to face with Clint.

“You?” she scoffed. She then thrust the toy back into the bartender’s hand.

“Hey there. Didn’t look like you were too busy so I thought I’d stop by.” Clint couldn’t help the smirk on his face, he really couldn’t.

The bartender cursed under his breath. “Why does this keep happening to us?” he muttered. “Seriously this has been all  _ fucking  _ night.”

“What do you want?” snapped Gamora. She was standing in front of Quill, who was muttering something about “three fucking times.” In a way, it reminded Clint of the way a guard dog stands at a fence.

“Unless you have information about Karen,” Elektra stood, “then I don’t see why we have to help you.”

“I think it’s the law, Lektra.” Quill warned, looking frantically back and forth between the two angry women.

Gamora yanked Quill down by the ear, whispering in his ear loud enough for Clint to catch, “Since when do you care about the law?”

“Since, I dunno, there’s a  _ cop  _ in front of us!” Quill gestured wildly to Clint.

“Relax,” he put his arms up in surrender. “I just wanna know where your boss is.”

While this seemed to relax the bartender, it had no visible effect on the waitresses. “He’s not in his office.” Gamora snapped again. ‘Trust me, I looked.”

“Will you let go of my ear?” Quill whined.

“You big baby.” Gamora rolled her eyes, but dropped her hand.

Clint crossed his arms and let out a sigh. “Do you know anywhere he might be?”

“Maybe he is off with Stark.” spit Elektra. Clint had to take a step back, biting back laughter. Was opinion of Tony as a boss really that low?

“I think he has a place here in the hotel.” Quill pointed out. “I’m not sure where that would be, but I dunno, maybe you could knock on doors until you find it.”

“I’ll make that plan B. But I better just-” Instinct stopped him when he heard a familiar voice in the lobby echoing in a loud and annoying tone.

“Did we  _ really  _ have to stop for McDonald’s?

“Oh, just admit that you had fun, Jess. Matt did, right?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean I haven’t been to McDonald’s since my dad was murdered.”

“Uh… yeah, sure, Matt, that’s the spirit.”

Then entered the owners of the voices. A women dressed in all black, a leather jacket over her slumped shoulders, followed by blonde woman who despite her relaxed gym clothing and tied up hair, looked like she was in a lot more control of her life than the woman before. Behind them, clicking that familiar cane, was none other than Karen’s blind lawyer.

“Well, well, well.” Clint clapped. They looked up, all three, and he had their attention. “Didn’t even think I’d be seeing you ever again. Jessica Jones.”

“Detective Clint motherfucking Barton.” The private investigator crossed her arms and scoffed.

“Good to see you too, Jones.”

“Wish I could say the same.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re the detective on this case?”

“The very same. But I think the real question is-”

“What is going on here?” Quill yelled from the bar. Beside him, Gamora was crossing her arms and shaking her head in disappointment.

Beating both the detective and P.I. to the punch, Matt Murdock stepped forward. Elektra stood upon seeing the blind man. Her general expression was unreadable, but before Matt could even get a word out, Elektra added her two cents. “When I said help Karen, Matt, I meant prove her innocence in court,  _ not  _ get a P.I.”

“This her?” Jessica asked the blind lawyer.

Matt nodded before turning back to the waitress at the bar. “Elektra. She can help us.” Matt’s grip around his cane tightened and he turned, to Clint’s surprise, in the direction where he stood. “Detective Barton, this was a bad time for us to come up, wasn’t it?”

“If you were hoping to snoop, then yes it was. ‘Fraid I can’t let her into the crime scene just yet. But if it makes you feel any better, they’re going to get me a list of every employee in the building that night. We’ll found out who did this.” Clint nodded at Jessica, who narrowed her eyebrows.

“Wait-” she started, but Gamora beat her to it.

“You don’t think she did it, do you?” The waitress’ eyes were wide with half hope, half anger.

Clint shook his head. “If I did, she’d have been convicted by now. There’s enough there.”

“So why keep looking?” Jessica asked.  Clint tried not to smirk at the curious tone in her voice.

“Because he thinks it’s something bigger.” clarified Matt. “Healthy Young Dependents, right?”

“There has been…this conspiracy floating around different precincts for the past couple of years. There are rumors there’s a resurgence coming around. Something about cutting heads, I can’t really explain it. But there’s been an increase in illegal drug sales and human trafficking in areas not known for that kind of Hell’s Kitchen crime, no offense-”

“None taken.” Jessica and Matt said simultaneously.

“And with all of this there’s been local politician’s names tied to all of the crimes. No repercussions for any of them of course, and that’s what we think Daniel Fisher might have been looking into. But the red string brings it all back to this one organization. Problem is, this organization doesn’t exist.”

“What do you mean?” the blond woman behind Jessica asked.

“When you think of most gangs and terrorists’ groups,” Gamora, of all people, begun to explain. “they have a face. They have a goal. They have a leader. Most of the time, every once in a while there’s an exception. This Young Dependents group is one of those exceptions. It’s all smoke and mirrors with these people.”

A moment of silence passed as the group turned and collectively stared at Gamora.

“What?” she asked. “I listen to the news. I’m not a savage.”

“She’s right. They’re not a violent group. Just an…just an angry one. They have a tendency to leave a paper trail and not a bloody one.” added Clint.

“Yeah, Matt mentioned that.” The blonde woman nodded. “It’s why he came and got Jessica in the first place.”

Elektra stood then. “Wait. Stop. What does Karen have to do with these, these terrorists?”

“We don’t know. You were her roommate. Did she have any ties that you know of? Any one she could have upset-”

“She is a  _ waitress _ ! She has no enemies!” Elektra slammed her hand down on the bar.

“Well she could have gotten someone’s order wrong-”

“Shut the hell up, Quill!” Elektra bit through grit teeth. “Karen Page is a kind woman. She would not hurt anyone, or anything. Of this I am sure!”

“No one’s doubting you.” assured Matt, his voice relatively calm. “But we need to have all our bases covered.”

“And I need that list.” Clint sighed.

“When you’re done with it - in case it comes to a dead end-” Jessica said out of nowhere, taking a step forward. “I want to take a look at it.”

Matt whirled around. “Does that mean you’re in?”

“No. It doesn’t. It just means I’m covering all of the bases. Like fancy cop over here said.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Jones.” nodded Clint.

Jessica smirked, and turned back around to Matt and the blonde woman. “Think I’ve got all I need.”

“Are you sure? You barely even looked.” The blonde woman questioned.

“I’ve got everything, Trish. At least for a start.” She surveyed Clint and the staff one more time with her dark eyes. “I’m going to walk around the outside, and then Murdock, you owe me a drink.”

“I’ll start a tab.” Matt smiled, gesturing to Peter Quill. Clint blinked. He could’ve sworn he saw a glimmer flash over his tinted glasses.

The three walked out, almost exactly to the beat of Stevie Wonder’s  _ Superstition. _ “Looks like they’ll be back.” The bartender muttered. Clint nodded his head.

Hell’s Kitchen’s very own, Private Investigator Jessica Jones. He hadn’t worked with Jessica Jones in - what, three years? -  and she had left relations with the precinct worse for wear. Clint had to wonder what she’d been up to, and what had  _ truly  _ brought her back. She was interesting one, and Clint could say that without even thinking back on the time she'd almost run over him.

**Huh.**

“Hell yes!” Quill shouted all of a sudden. Spinning around, Clint caught sight of Quill brandishing his bag of gummy worms. “There’s two left! Want one, Gamora? Elektra?”

“Go to hell, Quill.”

_

**So say Clint had gone knocking on doors - to clarify, he never did, but** **_if_ ** **he had and hadn’t given up on it and actually found Vince’s place, we know he would have found Vince talking to Wanda.**

**Now how awkward would** **_that_ ** **have been?**

Wanda Maximoff was sitting in front of him. The mother of his child was here, and all they could talk about was the past, and not the ever pressing future.

She’d been here all of twenty-three minutes and he still could not bring himself to ask the one question that had been haunting him since she changed his world with a few words.

_ “What have you decided regarding the child?” _

Wanda sat on his couch, an echo of his past and his future, idly looking at his apartment (he knew he should have cleaned earlier that day) and bringing up simple, safe topics of conversation like his taste in music.

The only time Vince mustered enough bravery, it was shot down by her brother calling. Vince had very few memories of Wanda’s twin brother when they were in school. From what he could recall, Pietro - not Peter - spent more time on the school’s track than in the classroom, so their paths rarely ever crossed.

His shoulder ached again as she spoke to her brother in a language he’d only ever heard from her and he was left to wonder what she could possibly be saying. About the baby. About him.

The topic drifted off when Wanda brought up high school again and the countless events  _ she  _ remembered that he had buried deep in his subconscious, along with all the other memories that had come before his diagnosis.

Her smile was captivating. She smiled at him once when they had spoken at the pool, and again here before them as they talked nostalgically. When she laughed, the pain in his shoulder was eased, and he couldn’t form the words to the ask the question that would bring an end to that.

“Ms. Harkness would not drop it!” Wanda was saying, the captivating smile dancing on her face as she laughed. “God, I thought she was going to completely lose it and flat out expel us that time.”

Vince bit back his own smile. “How is that I am always getting into trouble with you, Miss Maxim- Wanda.” he corrected quickly. “I was not that kind of student before meeting you.”

“ _ That,  _ I have a hard time believing. What were you known for? Oh yes, being so bored you rearranged the nurses’ files during your free period?”

“Says the woman who stood by the door keeping watch. You’re the enabler in this equation!” he insisted, fighting laughter.

“That is always what she said, Ms. Harkness, when she caught us. But there was reason for that…” biting her lip, Wanda trailed off, twisting one her many rings.

“What reason?” he ventured. There was an unreadable look on her face, and she was no longer looking at him with her bright green eyes. Her hand, though, she had stopped playing with her rings, rested now on her stomach. Vince’s heartbeat echoed in his own ears.

“It is stupid.” whispered Wanda.

“I have a hard time believing that.” He found his voice, parroting her own words back to her. She shifted, her hand still on her stomach.

“It was, it-” she stuttered. “It was just a silly high school crush.”

There was a sharp sound that broke through the silence (the jazz tracks had ended four minutes ago) as he sucked in a breath.

“Made me stupid things like watch the door so you could go behind the nurse’s back. And agree to go with you to prom… I am sorry, for bringing this up.” she stopped herself quickly and abruptly, regret written all over her soft features.

“No, no-” he stopped her. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Wanda.”

She shook her head, and her dark auburn hair fell around her. “No. That’s not true.”

“Wanda-”

“Not for bringing up the past, Vince, but for-” she bit her lip again, and paused to take a deep breath as he had caused her to do so in the conversation so many times before. “I - I kept you waiting. For your answer. That was cruel and unfair, and this whole thing has been so unfair to you-” She was failing her hands as she talked, and he could see just how quickly she was working herself up.

“Wanda, no, I understand. You have been with your family and that was time you deserved.”

She shook her head again. “I was not with family.” Her hands were at her rings again and her eyes seemed to be desperately searching for something to look at that wasn’t him. “I said that because I… because I’ve been throwing up. My morning sickness has been terrible and  _ early _ , for some reason, and I needed a few days off even though I made my decision a week ago…” She threw her hands up in the air.

But Vince couldn’t allow himself a glimmer of hope. “Does this mean…” He could not finish either.

Her green eyes locked with his own. “Yes, Vince. Yes, I’m keeping the baby.”

**I think we all have moments in our lives that we can always remember, no matter how much time has passed. And for Vince, this was one of those moments.**

“Wanda, I-” all he could do was stutter, and try convince himself that she had truly said so. Emotions, emotions he was not prepared to deal with, flooded his system. Happiness. Guilt. Joy.

Fear.

“I do not know what to say or how to thank you or-”

It was her turn to stop him. “I am keeping this baby,” she said once again. “but not for you.”

The need to hear her next words, to let her speak instead of him, beat out his own confusion. “I - I - this has been so unfair to you because I know you can no longer have children because of the mess up and I know, I know…but I am keeping this baby because it would be more unfair to my foster mother. She miscarried three babies, and then suddenly I am pregnant against all the odds of fertility treatments. I can’t - I won’t do this to her, or to my foster sister. She - she can’t even get pregnant.”

Vince was at lost for words. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea that she was keeping the baby. For every night he stayed awake, he believed wholeheartedly her answer would be a devastating no. They waited in the silence she had brought as he searched for words. “I - I understand.”’

“I do not know how parenting will work either.” she said in response. “Our best option at this point - our best option might be an open adoption?”

An open adoption? Vince’s heart beat quicker and faster. He had never imagined…he just couldn’t…

“Please, do not take it personally, I just-” she held up her hands in a peace offering, “I’m just trying to think of what is best for the baby.  _ Nothing _ is set in stone, I promise, but I - it seems like at least one solution. We could still be a part of this child’s life if it was an open adoption and they could have a normal life. The only other thing we could do - would be to, I don’t know… co-parent? Have dual custody over the child?”

In Vince’s mind, he bitterly thought to himself that even seeing his child on the weekends would be better than being a mere outsider to the child. But his lips would not form such a protest. “In that way, yes, I can understand where you are coming from.”

Her green eyes lit up and she began to try and correct her path. “If I give the baby up for adoption I would do so with your consent. I would never block you from the process. And if you don’t want to, then we won’t.” Her accent, tinged with her own guilt, echoed off the walls of his living room, and he understood.

A sour taste lingered on his tongue, but he nodded. There was, burning in him, a new found admiration for Wanda Maximoff. She had taken the initiative to keep the child only as a way to almost offend the universe for its flawed logic, to honor her family, but also to protect the child. In his mind it occurred to him how selfish he was being for believing things could work out for the child. Inwardly, he chided himself for his early moment of self-centeredness. Wasn’t that what parenting was? Giving up your own selfish desire so that your child could have a better life?

“Whatever you want to do, Miss Maximoff-”

“And none of that.” Wanda stopped him. The frustration in her voice was more than audible. “We make these decisions together because this affects the both of us. This isn’t fair to either of us. And please, please, I’m going to be the mother of your child, so no more Miss Maximoff. Call me Wanda, okay?”

He swallowed. “I suppose it is too late to tell you that you can call me Vince.” At this, she burst into laughter despite his seriousness.

“I should have done so anyway. You are my boss, so.” She bit her lip, and gestured to him.

“I am a little bit more than your boss now.” he commented, sending her spiraling back into laughter. Something inside him relaxed. When she was laughing, the tension between them was not so thick and the air was breathable. “You mentioned that you were sick?” Vince asked.

It was a moment before she nodded in response. “Morning sickness and nausea. They are regular symptoms of pregnancy, but even Dr. Cho tells me that my experience has been a little odd even for my body adjusting. You know, on top of everything else.”

“Is there a reason for that? Other than the adjustment of your body to the baby?”

Wanda let out a chuckle. “Different women experience different things, I guess. Maybe I am just having an extreme reaction.”

“Is there anything - anything I can do to help?” Vince swallowed his guilt. Of course the universe was cruel enough to make the beginning of the pregnancy as hard as possible for this kind woman.

“No.” Wanda shook her head. “I already had a friend buy me a whole bunch of ‘remedies’. We will see how those work.”

“You can have a some more time off, if you need it-”

“I’ll be okay. I promise. Besides, working will get my mind off it.” She smiled at him and he understood.

“In the future, if you need anything,” Vince added, “please don’t hesitate to ask. I am indebted to you enough. There may be no way I can thank you, ever for what, you have done and what you are doing...”

Wanda tilted her head to the side ever so slightly and her hair fell around her as a smile touched her lips. “You are making this harder than it needs to be.”

“I mean what I say, Wanda.”

“I know.” She nodded. “And don’t be surprised if I take you up on your offer.” Her voice was slightly mischievous, slightly shaking and Vince took in another breath.

“There is something I need.” she said after a moment. Vince looked up, locking his eyes own eyes with hers. “The staff, they know about the baby and about the insemination, but they don’t know…they don’t know about us. And for now, I need to keep it that way.”

Confusion overtook the lingering happiness in Vince. Earlier it had come to his attention that yes, his staff was aware, and no, they did not hold all the information, but it had never occurred to him that it was by her doing. Why would Wanda want to keep this a secret? The whole ordeal was merely an accident, nothing more, and surely the staff could understand this.

“This isn’t forever.” Wanda promised. She had been making a lot of promises. “But with everything that is happening to Karen, and then it being that I am pregnant with my boss’s child, I just, I just don’t want them to feel like I am getting special treatment.”

Her clarification made sense, but still a sense of bitterness and bewilderment still clouded him. It was becoming increasingly difficult  _ not  _ to give her special attention; with every minute that passed he realized further and further his luck, and increasing debt to this woman.

“As long as it isn’t forever, then I can agree. They will have to learn sooner or later.” Vince caved.

Her hand was back resting on her abdomen. “Yes. I know.”

“One step at a time.” he tried to assure her.

Green eyes met blue ones, and for a split second, Vince was imaging a tiny pair of those same green eyes. “One step at time.”she repeated, with that captivating smile and a deep breath. “One step at a time.”

_

**Or if you’re Pietro, still hitting it up at Babies’ Я Us, it’s more like one** **_page_ ** **at time. One page of** **_What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ ** **at a time.**

_ “Your Pregnancy Profile and Preterm Birth,” _ the section Pietro had made it to was called. It was about third of the way through the book, but if Pietro was being honest, he’d mostly just skimmed, looking for what he thought was important to Wanda’s kid - or what looked weird.

_ “Some studies show a link between extreme emotional stress (not your everyday ‘I’ve got too much to do and not enough time to do it’) and preterm labor … blah, blah, blah … Sometimes it’s unavoidable (as when you lose your job or there’s been illness or death in the family) … Jesus Christ … blah, blah, blah…” _ Pietro read.

“Sir?”

He turned the page.  _ “Pregnancy Complications.” _ “Huh.”  _ “Such complication such as gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, and excessive amniotic fluid … whatever… something about placenta previa or placenta abruption - yikes - can make an early delivery more likely … managing symptoms…” _

“Sir? Hey, sir! Is everything alright?”

“ _ Multiples, _ ” his eyes skimmed, “ _ Women carrying more than one fetus deliver an average of three weeks early (though it has been suggested that full term for twins is actually 37 weeks, which might mean that three weeks isn’t early at all-” _

“SIR!”

In a flash, Pietro slammed the book shut, lost his grip, and dropped the four-pound book on his foot.  _ “Shit” _ he cursed in Sokovian, before whirling around to the person who had yelled him. “What?”

It was the same attendant from before, Wanda’s doppelganger. “Is everything alright? You’ve been standing there for forty-five minutes.”

What the hell? Forty-five minutes? Reading a book? Pietro had never spent that long reading any book in his life. “Really? That long?” he stuttered, like a dumbass.

She nodded. “Yeah. And you broke my crib.”

_ Shit. _

“…sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. You just made my job harder, that’s all.” God, she even talked like Wanda. “What to Expect When You’re Expecting, huh?” The attendant pointed to the book he had picked back up. “Is your wife pregnant? Congratulations-”

“What?!?” He took four steps back in a panicked scurry. “No, no,  _ hell  _ no-”

“Oh so your girlfriend? It’s good that you’re at least staying right not-”

“NO!” Pietro shouted, and the attendant took a step back. “It’s - it is my sister. My twin sister is pregnant. I haven’t gotten anyone pregnant, I am just trying to help her.”

The attendant smiled, and Pietro had to blink Wanda’s face away from his mind. “That’s sweet of you. I bet you’ll make a good uncle, if you ever learn to set up a crib instead of break it.”

**Damn.**

“Again, I am sorry about that. Is - can I fix it?” Pietro rubbed the back of his neck in shame.

“I already did, but thanks for the offer. It would’ve been good practice for you.” She turned around to walk away, but quickly did a double take. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” Pietro knew there was a “so you don’t break any more of my stuff” in that question.

“Uhhh…” Pietro flipped the book open to one of the many tabs he had bookmarked when skimming.

_ “Vitamin Supplements… Research has shown that taking a supplement containing at least 10 mg of vitamin B6 before and during early pregnancy can minimize morning sickness… Consider a chewable one supplement or slow release supplement.” _

“Yeah, actually-” Pietro said before she could walk away. Swallowing his pride, he asked “Do you know where the vitamins are?”

He hated to ask, really hated it and felt his cheeks burning, but was facing a repeat of the book searching incident. The vitamins, were both on his list from Laura and in the godforsaken book, so Pietro might as well get them now.

“Three rows down. Take a left, and they should be next to the ovulation and pregnancy tests.”

Tucking the book underneath his arm, Pietro thanked Wanda’s clone and followed her instructions, finding a whole two sections of vitamins and supplements right where she said they would be. His eyes scanned their labels quickly, looking for the vitamin B6.

“So they have two kinds of chewable ones-” he whispered out loud to himself. Wanda hated to take regular vitamins (she was going to have to, he realized, when he couldn’t find regular chewable vitamins that covered the gigantic list in that damn book) but maybe he could add the gummy ones to her regular ones. “-grape and strawberry.”

Pietro pulled out his cellphone, laughing to himself. “Wonder which one she wants.”

_

**And that brings us back to the phone call, which brings us back to Wanda and Vince sitting a-w-k-w-a-r-d-l-y in a tree in his penthouse/suite, where she told him she was keeping the baby. And that brings us to this conversation.**

The words still burned in her ears.

“I am keeping the baby, but not for you.” Wanda had said, and Wanda had meant it. Yet the look on his face caused a wave of nausea that could not have been eased by one of her lollipops.

He kept twisting his golden ring, and staring at her with those inhuman blue eyes that possessed a sincerity she wasn’t ready for. Vince’s insistence, a match for her own stubbornness, to let her choose what to do with the baby sent Wanda on the verge of shouting at him.

Was she just supposed to carry this baby by herself? Did he  _ not  _ want to be a part of this child’s life? He didn’t strike her as that kind of man. To Wanda, he looked caught between his gentlemen’s nature and putting his foot down for what he wanted.

When he offered his help, it almost broke her. Pregnancy hormones and lack of sleep were starting to get to her, because his simple friendly sweetness was bringing her to the verge of tears. And in the moment, she hated her pregnancy hormones more than ever.

“I should give you my phone number,” Wanda spoke up, after asking Vince to stay quiet about the baby’s parentage (again the look on his face was almost more than she could bare, but the bombshell that they’d almost dated in high school was still swirling underneath all the news of Karen’s current sucky situation and now the news of how she got pregnant - she was tired, her stomach hurt, and so did her brain. She wasn’t dealing with that. They would get to that bridge when they needed to cross it, like every other bridge ahead of them) and the faraway look in his face faded. “To keep you updated, and in case something happens.” Wanda came close to adding “I don’t think I will be seeing you too often,” but that was salt on his open wounds.

“Oh.” He mouthed, then “Oh, oh yes. That makes sense.”

After exchanging numbers (she would have to tell Carol she had gotten his number when all this was over; at the thought of Carol her shoulders fell, remembering her friend’s plan for the gym the following morning), she stood up. “I should - I should be going.” As her bravery faded, her nausea had come flooding back with an anger and she had to grip the fabric of the couch to steady herself. “And get back to work.” Wanda crossed her ringed fingers behind her back.

“Of course, of course.” Vince stood too then, and Wanda was surprised, taking a step back, by how much taller he stood than her. She swallowed.

He walked in her shadow as they headed for the door. Wanda tried to open the door slowly so she wouldn’t lose what balance she had, steadying herself on the doorknob. She could feel him behind her, like a gentle giant. She turned the knob.

This was when her poor balance and cursed heels failed her. A pulse of dizziness rocked her, sending her swaying to the side. Her ankle bent as the heel succumbed. Wanda failed her arms about, a desperate attempt to catch herself, when she was sent straight back into Vince.

And he’d been waiting with open arms the second she started to fall.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentle and concerned.

Something was electric in his touch, sending a shiver up her spine. “Yeah, yes.” She stuttered. “Pregnancy symptom.”

He lifted one of his almost nonexistent eyebrows (they were such a light shade of blond they almost blended in), the ghost of smile on his face. “Are you sure?”

Wanda nodded. She was still looking up at him from where she was in his arms. Realizing where she was, and where his  _ hands _ were, she quickly pushed herself upright and out of his grasp. “Thank you for catching me.”

“Do you fall often?” his accent echoed off the walls.

“Not often.” she whispered, brushing the hair out of her face. “A lot more recently.”

Vince smiled, soft and gentle, and Wanda’s heart beat began to race faster and faster.

_ No, no, no, no, don’t you dare do this, Maximoff! Was high school not enough of an example? You need to just be…acquaintances. Yes, acquaintances. It’s what’s best for the child… _

“Will I see you soon?” he asked, all charm and sweetness, and she cursed inwardly in the foulest Sokovian that came to mind.

“Hopefully.”

_ Dammit! _

“I look forward to it. Again, if you need anything-”

“Just ask.” she finished for him. “I know.”

“Have a good night, Wanda.” Her name was almost golden on his lips. Wanda said her own goodbyes, her heart racing and her mind cursing, but even with the words hanging in the air, they must have stood there for an extra eternity.

A dull pain her stomach broke her gaze, and she took a slow step back. “I - I should-”

His concentration broke too. “Of course, yes, um-”

“Yeah.” Wanda breathed.

_ You could try not staring like a stupid school girl, Maximoff. _

“Goodnight, Vince.” She whispered.

“Goodnight, Wanda.”

**_“My heart should be well schooled, ‘cause I’ve been fooled in the past…”_ ** **Yeah okay, I know my singing voice isn’t that great.**

_

**Okay, my terrible jazz singing aside, we come back to where we started, that’s right. The subway.**

Wanda ended up clocking out early.

No one was there, they were all holing themselves up in their rooms like ignorant cowards. For the better, the decided. Maybe it was because she was full of nervous energy or because she needed to prove herself to Vince and to the rest of the staff (they were all looking at her like they were just expecting her to pop at any second), so while Quill choked on candy and Gamora whacked him with no hesitation or softness, on the back, Wanda took the spray bottle of cleaner and began to clean the tables and chairs. She took her precocious heels off like a Cinderella character and did her best to not breath in the chemicals (that couldn’t have been good for her or the baby; she bit her lip, three weeks in and she was already thinking like this - she was screwed) but eight o’clock soon rolled around and Wanda couldn’t take any more of the 70’s rap or Gamora’s snide comments.

Wanda punched out and headed straight for the subway.

It was quiet this time, no image of her own close future, only her and the protesting of the metal against tracks, as she rode back to her apartment.

_ “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask…”  _ he had told her. She could hear his light British accent, and suddenly her thick Sokovian one did not feel like a barrier between her and another person. She felt…at ease when he spoke. As for his offer, Wanda knew there was little he could do. In a perfect situation, one where they were just another married couple expecting their first baby (Wanda covered her stomach again; only in a parallel universe could it have worked out that way), even then there wasn’t much he could do. This was her body and this was her body’s burden to bear. But if she could have passed off the headaches, the bloating, and the gas, she wouldn’t have hesitated. And the vomiting and dizziness were going to be the death of her, long before the any decisions about the baby came knocking on her door.

She still couldn’t believe that Vince had  _ drawn _ her. It made her wonder just how much thought he had put into the memory of her. A hot blush creeped up her neck.

“ _ Do you fall often?”  _ he had asked. Now, in the present, Wanda tried her best not to let embarrassment take over. She could believe she had just slipped and fallen into his waiting arms. What kind of helpless fairytale character was she becoming?

Vince made Wanda want to do stupid things. Like accidently lock people in closets and get in trouble for keeping watch while they rearranged different offices (in Vince’s defense she did  _ dare  _ him to do that, it had nothing to do with his compulsivity)

_ “Stupid girl. No boy, whether or not he is worth his salt, is worth sacrificing who you are for. I expected you to know that, to be better than that. _ ” Agatha Harkness’ words burned in Wanda’s mind still ten years later. Out of her whole lecture, a punishment for keeping watch while Vince rearranged the nurse’s office. It came back to her in Maine, more than once, and now with Vince.

She clenched her fist, felt her rings digging into her skin. No more princess in some old European castle waiting for a prince to sweep her off her feet. Wanda needed to be brave. Brave enough for Laura. Brave enough for this baby and to do what she needed to do so it - no, he or she - could live the best life possible.

Tears kissed her eyes. There was no way she had that bravery inside her, no matter where looked inside herself.

And it was in that moment, as the subway car came to a smooth stop, that Wanda remembered the first words ever Vince ever said to her,  _ “Look again.” _

_

“Pietro!” Wanda called as she opened the apartment door. “I am back! Pietro?”

Wanda was met with silence, and looked around the apartment. Salem meowed from where he was perched by his empty food bowl. “I will feed you in a second.” Carefully, she treaded around the many piles of clothes and boxes. “Pietro?” She realized, with a smile, that he was in the shower when she heard the sound of the faucet and off-key Nirvana from the bathroom.

She collapsed onto her couch, throwing each heel a satisfying distance across the apartment, and smiled as they landed with a  _ thud _ . “Fuck you, Tony Stark.” Wanda made a reach for her laptop, when her fingers collided with one of the many books on her cluttered coffee table. “Oh, what have you done now Pietro?” she asked the empty room.

A sudden realization made her gasp.  _ What to Expect When You’re Expecting _ lay on her coffee table, next to several bottles of - of pregnancy supplements. Tears were back in her eyes as she picked up the book, scanning the pages already dog-eared (had he done that?) sections like  _ Your Due Date, Birthing Choices, Sushi Safety, Vitamin Supplements, Morning Sickness… _

Wanda fingers drifted over the words on the first page about morning sickness, smiling to herself. It was so like her brother to bookmark the section on sushi for her _. _

“Oh, you’re home.” Wanda heard the familiar Sokovian from her brother. He stood, only in a towel, wiping his face with another and looking over her shoulder.

“You got this for me.” It was not a question.

Pietro tossed the towel he was drying his face with onto one of the piles, and nodded, sheepishly. “I hope I got the right thing.” Was he…  _ embarrassed? _

“Why did you get this for me?” she asked, choking back tears, the book trembling in her hands.

“Uh, Laura said it would help. Did I get the right thing?” he asked again. Pietro’s gaze on one of the flickering lightbulbs, not her. Wanda blinked the insistent tears away and tried to nod.

“There were a lot of different books there so I didn’t know if - hey are you crying?” The couch next to her sunk, and she could feel Pietro beside her. “Shit, Wanda I-” He had switched to English suddenly and she put out hand to stop him. The tears she’d been swallowing all day came fast now with a vengeance.

“Shut up, Pietro.” Wanda hiccupped. “Pregnancy symptom.” She wiped the tears away from her face, taking a deep breath. “Thank you for this. This is perfect. I see you went through it already.”

Wanda felt the glossy pages against her fingertips. She flipped to the other bookmarks, lingering on ones like  _ Mood swings, Depression,  _ (she swallowed, knowing exactly why he had bookmarked that one),  _ Pregnancy and the Single Mother _ (“Well it’s what you are!”) _ , Pregnant on the Job,  _ and _ Snoring  _ (Wanda hit Pietro in the shoulder for this one). She read section titles quickly as she flipped back to the beginnings, out of budding curiosity.  _ Unwanted Belly Touching, Sexual Desire, Boys Will Be Boys  _ (that better not be what she thought it was),  _ Carrying Multiples, Showing Early… _ These she looked at a split second before opening back to another bookmark.

_ Your Due Date. _

“Huh.”

“What?” Pietro asked from his place beside her.

“I hadn’t…I hadn’t even thought about that. My due date.” she breathed. “This says that it is calculated from the time of your last period -  _ don’t  _ make that face Pietro, but I know the exact date of my conception, so… do you have your phone with you?”

“Yeah.” Pietro tossed her his iPhone. “Why?”

“Because,” Wanda whispered as she slid the selfie of him and Crystal (he needed to change that) aside, unlocking the phone. “My appointment was the 24 th , so…subtract three months and add seven days,” she parroted the instructions of the book to help the confused look on his face as she counted the weeks in his calendar. “And that would be July 1 st of next year. That’s my due date.”

“It’s that easy?” Pietro lifted an eyebrow.

“ _ Yes _ , I thought you read it.” She answered, gesturing to the book.

He dropped his head. “I just skimmed it.”

Wanda couldn’t help but smirk. Of course he did.

“Hey,” he said after a minute.

“Yeah?”

“Did you talk to um…did you talk to him? Did you tell him?”

“I did.” Wanda nodded.

“And? What happened?”

Biting her lip, Wanda flipped to another bookmark. “Let’s just say that July 1 st seems a lot farther than I thought…” she trailed off, her eyes on the text of the books.  _ Signs of Preterm Labor. _

Wanda shut the book and tossed it back onto the coffee table, throwing her head back onto Pietro’s shoulder. “It’s going to go by fast.” Pietro told her.

“Don’t scare me like that,” she chastised to him, but smiled. He smelled like coconut.

_

**_Ten Years Ago…_ **

**_N.J Fury High School. Agatha Harkness’ office. September 24_ ** **_th_ **

“Wanda? Wanda, are you in here?”

Wanda set down the manila file for Tony Stark she was holding. “I am in the work room, Ms. Harkness!” she cringed. Wanda absolutely hated the way her ugly accent echoed off the stacks in this room.

“God, it’s a mess in here, girl.” she heard Ms. Harkness’ voice from the entrance, and Wanda stepped around one of the piles. “Oh, there you are. Wanda, I want you to meet someone.”

Wanda narrowed her eyes. Towering over Ms. Harkness, which wasn’t hard as she was already a small woman, was another boy, his pale blond, almost non-existent eyebrows furrowed at the counselor. “Wanda, this Vincent Anderson. He’s going to be helping me this year, so play nice.”

“Are you replacing me?” was the first thing out her mouth, but the tendrils of panic were already beginning to make it hard to breath.

“Calm down, Wanda. I’m not replacing you. But he is going to help, so  _ play nice.  _ And you,” she turned to the slouching boy, “stand up straight.”

The boy, as angry as it made him, did as he was told and Wanda swallowed. It was like he hand gained several centimeters. “You can help Wanda clean up this place. God knows she needs it.”

“I do not need his help.” Wanda insisted. “What can he possibly help me with? I look at him and all I see is a dead weight.”

Vincent Anderson turned his glare to her. “Look again.”

Wanda clenched a fist, but Ms. Harkness spoke before she could say anything. “Don’t make me admit this was a bad idea. Now I have to meet with Steve again, but I’ll be back to check on you in about half an hour, Vince. To make sure Wanda hasn’t killed you.” Ms. Harkness added under her breath before walking back to her office.

She watched Vincent, slouching again, move over to one of the piles and begin flipping through it. “How do you find anything in here?” he asked, shocking Wanda slightly. She wasn’t expecting his accent.

Apparently he wasn’t expecting hers either. “ _ Don’t  _ touch that!” She growled, slamming her hand down on the pile of manila folders. “I have a system. I can find things just fine, thank you very much.”

“If you say so.” Vince shrugged, and slouched to one of the bookcases. “Your accent. What part of Europe are you from?”

“The part where it’s none of your business.” she growled. A slip of blue papers was on the table, and she remember what she was doing before  _ he  _ got here.

“I have to go deliver these passes.” she announced, and he scoffed.

“Are you positive about that?” He lifted one of his invisible eyebrows at her.

“Yes, I’m  _ positive _ about that.” Wanda told him through gritted teeth, then adding  _ “asshole”  _ in Sokovian. “Now, do  _ not  _ touch anything okay, while I am gone. Just - just stay in that corner.”

Taking the passes to all the different classes gave Wanda a chance to catch her breath.  _ What a douchebag.  _ Wanda felt a flicker of fury. Why did Ms. Harkness think she needed help? She had done this job by herself all her sophomore year, hadn’t she proven herself responsible to that witch?

Wanda stopped by one of the water fountains, leaning against the cold tile. That witch just wanted to replace her with this new jackass.

And it didn’t help that he was kind of…cute.

But Wanda wanted to take that thought back right away when she walked back into the work room.

“What have you  _ done _ ?”

All around her, the stacks were disassembled and littering the floor. Vincent was sitting in a circle of paper, sorting out the files with the flick of his wrist.

“I told you not to touch anything!” Wanda yelled, snatching the file he was holding. He stared at her with piercing blue eyes, and took it back, straight out of her hand.

“This place is a mess.” he told her with that stupid voice. “I’m doing as Ms. Harkness instructed. I am cleaning it.”

Wanda ran a shaky hand through her hair, a million Sokovian curses on her lips. “I told  _ you.  _ I had a system, why,  _ why  _ would you ruin it?”

“It’s not ruined. It’s fixed.” There was a pride to his words that made Wanda want to kick him with her boot.

“I cannot believe you. I told you not to touch anything!” Wanda stopped herself. She knew she was going to start tripping over her English if she kept yelling, and it would do her no good if she could not piss him off by using a language he couldn’t begin to understand.

“I was told we would be partners, not that I would be your assistant. Excuse me for following Ms. Harkness’ directions.”

Wanda slammed her hands on her hips, biting her lips.

“Are you always this angry?” Vince was asking. “Is that why you are Ms. Harkness’ assistant?”

“You stay on that side of the room. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, do not even breath in my direction. I will stay on this side.” She planted herself the farthest she could from him, pulling a stack up to her to reorganize it.

“Oh god,” Wanda whispered to herself as she looked at the “fixed” pile. “How I am going to find anything in here?” Where the hell had he even put the trash can?

From his side of the room, she heard Vince stand up and whisper, “Maybe you should just look again.”

**_To Be Continued..._ **

_

**Song That Plays At The End of The Episode: _[Fall In Love Too Easily (Exmag Remix) by GRiZ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9urNdtcFSJY)_**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Miracles, Etc:  
> With her due date in mind and the guidance of What to Expect When You’re Expecting, Wanda schedules her first medical checkup. But unexpected ghosts from unexpected pasts and Vince and Wanda’s first fight lead to one very strange doctor’s appointment…
> 
> Little note: All those excerpts are indeed taken from the fourth edition of "What To Expect When You're Expecting" By Heidi Murkoff and Sharon Mazel. I would pay a little extra attention to them ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much! And of course much love to my Beta, and everyone who has been so supportive. Also special shout out to TheRisingAlleria, who is amazing and helped me get back on this story. Check her out on tumblr!


	6. Episode 4; part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda and Vince were totally hitting off after Wanda came by to tell him that she was keeping the baby, but now it's been a couple weeks and they've fallen back to square one. Vince is avoiding Wanda (gosh darn it Vince) and Wanda's so hormonal that's she's taking it personally. Things might get better at her first doctors appointment with the one and only Dr. Strange, if Vince bothers to show up. Meanwhile, business is slow for The Maria. Maybe a new employee will help shake things up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so… I’m not really sure what you’re supposed to say when you come back to finally update a fic that hasn’t been updated in two years…
> 
> several things brought me back here, 1) Thor: Ragnarok and Black Panther really brought me back to the universe and reminded me what I loved about it. Taika Watiti and Ryan Coogler were definitely what marvel needed. I’d say the Russo Bros also brought me back but I’m still mad at them. 2) The events of infinity war really messed me, but also convinced to come back to this project. I was really torn in the weeks coming up to movie; I knew for certain (even if I didn’t want to admit it) that Vision would die, and I was worried he would be the only death, and that fervour for scarlet vision would die out quickly. But now both Wanda and Vizh are dead (and I’m still upset) along with pretty much everyone cool (jk lol) (I’m still not handling the deaths well, as my lovely beta paraphrased that iconic™ line from the Incredibles, “When everyone is dead… no one will be”). But I was like “‘What the hell” they still have a fan base and i have nothing to do this summer (i’m like hella mentally ill and the doctors were like “no working Savannah”) so ta-da! I’m back. 3) My amazing beta and her love for this story was the deciding vote in bringing the story back, so thank her cause without her this wouldn’t have happened. 4) The scarlet vision fandom is the most amazing fandom and they deserve to these to characters happy. To everyone who wrote me and left comments during the hiatus, you are the ones that brought this back. Thank you for not giving up on me.
> 
> A few notes before we start. 1) now that IW has given us human!Vision, that’s what he’s going to look like in the story from now on. 2) Just assume all the alien characters look like the actors who play them. 3) I’m very nervous about posting this so please go easy on me. 
> 
> Welcome back to Miracles, etc!!!!!!! Let’s get started!

**_Location: Propetrov, the capital of war torn Sokovia._ **

**_Main theatre of the country’s developing civil war. Site of frequent bombing by both the rebels’ guerrilla forces and Sokovia’s own government._ **

 

**_February 6th. 7:42 pm: Sirens go off, shells begin to drop on the eastern side of the capital._ **

 

**_February 8th. 1:58 am: Bombing comes to an end. There is no clear victor._ **

 

**_February 8th. 8:23: Official attempts to rescue the survivors finally begin._ **

 

**_Total fatalities: 112, & counting…_ **

 

**_Total missing: 45...46...47...48...49…_ **

 

“Help me!” The cries of a broken mother echo through the expanse of smoke and debris the wind has scattered, through the snow-like ash falling through the atmosphere, a reminder of the fire that rampaged only a few hours before.

When asked about it much, _much_ later, long after the stranger himself disappeared off into the smoke, treasure secure and found, the survivors and volunteers called him an angel sent from a finally merciful God. His face was indistinguishable even in the dust, for he was not a local and kept his face under a brimmed hat. He spoke little Sokovian, but the familiar tongue of English calmed those he spoke to. Of course he was not English, nor was he American. As the locals would later speak of him, he was only an angel who emerged from the deepest ashes with the last survivors.

It would take them _much_ longer to realize what this angel had taken when he had gone.

“Please help me! I can’t find him, I can’t find him!” The mother’s cries were broken and carried away by the wind. None of the civilians or volunteers seemed to hear her, and they were so far away.

Then the angel emerged, seemingly out of the air, his hat failing to cover his warm smile, and as he gathered the sobbing woman and took her in his arms, his foreign voice rang out in the rubble of the smoldering building. “Calm yourself, madam, there you go, just breathe. We will find your son. Everything will be alright. Now, can you remember where he was when the building fell?”

The last of the flickering flame breathing against crushed tone was the only sound, then, “He- we- he was with me!” she sobbed in strangled Sokovian, her body shaking as she sunk to her knees. Her cries had begun to attract a crowd of survivors, their eyes broken by the long days and nights of war, drawn by the all to familiar cry of the last on left. Mother’s within the crowd began to bring their children, still shielded behind them, towards the building. The distraught woman pointed toward the western end of the building end of what had once been a modest apartment complex and she cried out, “We were on the second floor when the-” she choked, “when the shells hit! I held onto him, but- but he fell away from me in the blast. Please! Please, I cannot find him!”

“It will be alright.” The angel whispered to the mother. He stood and turned his back to her, entering the mass of fallen concrete. The crowd held a collective breath, keeping their remaining loved one close, as the angel’s image faded back and forth in the mirage of smoke and dust. Hearts beat in tandem, 10 seconds, then 30, then a minute, then two, until finally out of the grey, the stranger emerged, carrying  in his arms a limp child.

There was a gasp, and then the infinite silence of the Sokovians was torn. Clapping arose over the roar of wind.

“Thank you, thank you!” the mother cried out, arising from her knees and running toward them. She kissed the angel’s face before taking her son into her own arms. “My baby boy!”

“Careful, madam. He is badly bleeding, and he is unconscious. You need to find a doctor and quickly before-” his calm voice was stopped short by a sudden roar. Faster than the wind itself, the man pushed the mother and her son back into the crowd as he shouted something incomprehensible.

What the shells had not blown back into hell and what the flames had not licked away, the rest of the building- a fragile exoskeleton- began to crumble. The crowd feld into a chaotic scurry, the crash of metal against earth shaking the ground for kilometers.

A final groan, and a new release of violent smoke, and the home of hundreds lay to rest in a pitiful grave around them. Only after an eternity the crowd dared to settle, but the angel stood in front of them, face first at the fallen building as the dust around them settled.

The Sokovians beheld their angel in a heavy silence. They dared not to come any closer, until a young girl, no more than six or seven years old emerged from the crowd.

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” “What does she hear?” “Surely no one survived _that_.” they whispered to each other. There was only smoke and debris for kilometers, yes the faint sound of the last sirens, but nothing else. Yet the angel knelt down in front of the girl.   

“Hear what, my child?”

She pointed back to the rubble, as if it was obvious. The crowned leaned in, trying to hear.

“...help us!” A quiet cry of another child reaching out. “Help her…”

“Hello?” the voice of the angel rang out.

“...We need help … She needs help, please is anybody out there?

“Stay where you are.” The angel commanded, and he stepped back into the rubble. A few brave- and worried- Sokovians came forward to witness this unfolding miracle. Because they recognized this voice. This child was not known for begging for rescue, he was known for running around the apartment floors and ignoring the scolding of his parents. But when they were not among the survivors, the occupants of the other apartments assumed only that the family of this spirited boy had become victim to the explosion.

“I am going to pull this up now.” The angel told the child, touching the concrete and bricks that covered him from the crowd’s view. “Try not to move-”

“No… no, don’t…” A much weaker voice choked in protest. The sister. “The shell… the shell.”

Someone in the crowd let out a gasp when the angel disobeyed the request of the young girl, pulling up the rubble. There, next to the boy who held onto his sister in his arms, was slick shell, the telltale brand of Stark marking it like a death sentence. Its black surface carried no dents, no scratches, or openings.

It had not gone off.

The angel surveyed the scene, his gaze flickering back and forth between the children and the danger of the shell. He had two options: let the bomb go untouched and let the children die, or try to remove them and risk triggering the bomb, killing himself and the crowd as he did so.

With wide eyes, the crowd watched as the man took his hat off. Then, as if he was a surgeon, he meticulously pulled away each stone, each brick, each piece of debris away from the children. The sister protested still, and he moved ever slower. The brother kept her in his arms, tucking her head under his in anticipation of the imminent blast.

All that remained after he picked away pebble after stone, was a slab of concrete held by a single rusted iron rod that covered the young brother and sister as if it were a blanket tucking them into bed for one more final night. At its base, the bomb lay waiting.

“Come towards me.” the angel told them.

“...we can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I need you to come towards me, as if you were a caterpillar or a worm.” In a modest attempt to calm the children, to earn their trust, he laughed gently at his own metaphor. “You can do it. Boy, you first.”

“No.” the boy retaliated, fire in his voice. “ _She_ goes first. Save _her_ first.”

“As you wish. Come towards me then, darling.”

The girl untucked her head from her brother and whimpered, but the boy nodded his head, so she did as she was told. Crawling on her elbows centimeter by centimeter, away from the safety of her brother. Tears fell from her eyes as she tried to breathe in shallow pants.

“You are almost there.” His voice became quiet, and he called to her in a language few in the crowd recognized.

A wince from the girl, and the crowd sucked in a breath. But she emerged, blood clotting on her face around her eyes and nose, her head covered in angry purple bruises. She turned her back to the rubble as the angel reached out to her. Later they would say he reached out to her as if she was a ghost.

“Pietro,” the girl fell to her scraped knees, reaching her hands like she was in prayer back to the cave of concrete. A whisper for an answer, perhaps a protest. “ _Please,_ don’t leave me alone. Please, _please_ , follow my voice.”

Another breath released as the boy pulled himself out of the rubble, managing to stand up for a second before falling into his sister’s arms. “Sister” he sobbed into her hair. Like her, bruises kissed his young face and blood was stained on his clothes and in his hair. She pulled him closer, and in turn he buried himself into her shoulder. “Are they… are they gone?”

“They’re gone,” she told him, her voice breaking.

Standing above her, the angel was reaching out to her again, touching the dried blood on her forehead.

“Don’t touch her!” the boy screamed. He yanked the girl away from their savior, shifting the gravel as he moved. A scratch, a puff of smoke, and screams from the crowd, but then nothing. Yes, the bomb had been touched, but by the grace of God, it had not gone off.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” The angel repeated, his voice warmer now that they were free. Still, the boy brought his sister farther away from his reach. “I promise I mean you no harm. My name is Erik, and I am here to help you.”

**_Total missing: 51_ **

 

-

***bolts awake* Oh- oh shit. I was suppose to be narrating this story. Ah fuck. Can you believe they picked** **_me_ ** **to narrate this story? I was out for two years,** **_two years._ ** **Man Netflix will really do that to you.**

**Okay, anyways, back to where we left off before I passed out. Give me a second, I gotta remember… oh yeah!**

**The hero of our story is Wanda Maximoff. The other hero of our story is Vincent Anderson, and he’s a vision to look at. Ok, but seriously, Vincent had struggled with cancer in the past, and now is infertile after several years of chemo, a double edged sword. His good buddy Tony Stark, who is rich, rich, and more rich, gave him a job of managing the prized hotel of Stark Industries,** **_The Maria._ ** **He took the job, cause it had great perks, but also he was just pulled there. Maybe by fate? Afterall, there’s this waitress working there who he almost dated in highschool (Wanda, to be exact). Things got a little messy when a gynecologist impregnated Wanda Maximoff with his** **_last_ ** **sperm sample (why was it his last, you ask? Good question) and now she’s carrying his child. She wasn’t going to keep it at first, and he totally respected her decision because he’s a gentleman (nothing but respect for** **_my_ ** **president) even though he was disappointed. But then she changed her mind! But not for him, again he totally respects her reasons, and he’s feeling super lucky because now the ice is melting between them, and maybe he could get some sleep at night if somebody had not been** **_murdered_ ** **in the hotel he was supposed to managing. But that’s Vince, we’ll catch up with him later.**

**And what about Wanda? Well I’ll take you back to the story with the snap of my fingers! (Cause I’m super powerful and can do things like that.)**

**Snap of my fingers… what kind of meaningful plot device is that?**

“So what do they even do at your first doctor’s appointment?”

Setting down her deck of cards, Wanda directed her gaze back to her foster father, who was back to nailing up vintage white cabinets in the Farmhouse kitchen for his wife. Wanda had come over for lunch, Carol having switched shifts with her for the day. Clint, of course, had found another part of the house to tear up, the smell of fresh paint and wood filling up the adjoining living and dining room. Laura sat at the head of the dining room’s grand oak table, another Clint project from a few years ago, folding laundry and humming. Wanda sat the furthest away from _both_ her foster parents, trying to be polite enough not to leave the room even in though the combined smell of paint and lavender fabric softener had her dry heaving. The baby inside her, recently nicknamed “Little Fetus” by her brother-

**Technically it’s still an embryo. God, Pietro, I thought after all that time reading books at Babies R Us you would have at least learned something.**

-was sure trying its hardest to push her away from the people she loved. Everybody, everywhere smelled _awful_ with her senses heightened, including Pietro, who now smelled of coconut shampoo _and_ sweat (it turns out showers only help if you take them everyday). Unfortunately his gift of pregnancy books offered no timeline on when her senses would return to normal.

Across from her, sat Cassie, holding her own deck of cards, head bent as she pretended to be deep in thought as she chose a card. “Well,” Wanda started, making a face at Cassie that sent her laughing, “they are mostly just checking. That I am pregnant, still.”

“I thought they did it at the hospital.” Clint yelled from across the kitchen.

“And I thought they were kinda rude about it too.” added Laura as she folded another towel.

Wanda opened her mouth to reply, but that was what her niece was waiting for, and she shouted, “Go fish!” Cassie threw her cards down and cackled.

“This game is rigged!” Wanda protested, laughter bubbling from within her. The five year old, of course, had been too distracted by all the noise and curse words coming from the kitchen (Clint had hit his thumb _three_ times) when Wanda had been trying to explain the rules of ‘Go Fish’ so they had mostly played by handing each other random sets of cards as Cassie tried to eat her lunch of a peanut butter sandwich and celery sticks (in stroke of pure genius, her niece had stuck the celery sticks _in_ the sandwich, and for a moment Wanda wondered if the baby growing inside her would eat their vegetables in such a creative way once they were old enough).

“Go fish!” Cassie squealed again, her mouth covered in peanut butter, as the playing cards were too.

Clint, still in the kitchen, was not done with his questions. “So first they’re making you go through your insurance just for them to tell you your pregnant? Because the vomiting isn’t telling enough?”

“No, it’s a little more than that.” Wanda let out a little laugh. But the dry wit of her foster father had a point. She was not excited to go through her insurance. As a worker paid hourly she was lucky to have any at all; Stark was not completely heartless when it came to his employees, but that did not make them easy to deal with. “They also…” she stopped and bit her lip, hesitant to continue. “they listen for the heartbeat.”

“It already has a heartbeat?” asked Clint.

“The heart develops as early as the fifth week.” informed Wanda, her hand unconsciously resting over belly. “It should be beating by now.”

**Double time, honey.**

Now on week eight of her pregnancy, she could barely believe the weeks that had gone by. Eight weeks since Pietro and Crystal had a fight in her apartment that night and kept her from sleep. Eight weeks since Dr. Cho had accidentally inseminated her because she was asleep when the doctor attempted to clarify because Pietro and Crystal kept her up. It had only been two months, nearly 60 days. Most women didn’t even know they were pregnant or even had symptoms this early, and Wanda was envious of every single one of them. The nausea and imminent vomiting came over her in waves; one minute she was fine, the other she was running to restroom. Fatigued as ever, Wanda was falling asleep in the most random places, including under Quill’s bar and the employee’s bathroom. Her breasts were still sore because apparently this body no longer belonged to her and yes, she could smell _everything._ Still, she insisted on being at work rather than back in her apartment as people were starting to return to the hotel, and it was a good distraction. Hope’s store bought remedies worked most of the time, enough to keep her up and moving.

Nights were the worst, though. Pietro would hold her hair back as she threw up into the shiny porcelain bowl of her toilet over and over and over, making comments about how he couldn’t stand to see her this way and about how disgusting this was and how she should have just taken the pills. Wanda would then muster all the strength she had left and punch his shoulder.

“I’m not doing this for me,” she’d tell him, some spittle of vomit dripping down her chin, and he’d be quiet.

Vomiting, then maybe an hour or two of restless sleep after Pietro carried her back to bed, and when the tossing and turning became too infuriating, she’d kick off her blankets and the cat sleeping on her bed, and open _What to Expect When You’re Expecting._

Already, Wanda had read the book three times, along with the others Pietro bought her and several websites. Every night, she would skim and skim, sloppily dog earing pages, looking for answers to the same questions. _Why am I throwing up so much? Why are my symptoms showing so early? Why does Little Fetus think everything I eat and smell is not good enough?_ The answers rarely sufficed.

However, Wanda was learning. It was quite amazing, the development occurring inside her. A heart at five weeks. Beating at seven. Only the size of a blueberry, Little Fetus had a nose, a mouth, and ears. It had a brain, brand new nerve cells, breathing tubes that would become lungs.

Maybe Little Fetus wasn’t anything to her yet, and maybe it driving her crazy, but it had the potential to be something to someone.

“Listening for the heartbeat is just another way of confirming, and checking to make sure everything is developing correctly.” Wanda told her foster father.

“So how do they do that?” Laura asked her, coming over to wipe the peanut butter off Cassie’s mouth with a washcloth, Cassie giggling and squirming as she did so. “Is it like an ultrasound, or?”

Wanda bit her lip. “Ultrasounds are more effective when you are farther along. They… they, um, they have to stick a microphone up my-” Wanda flailed her hands around, finally gesturing downward.

“Stick it where?” Cassie asked, borderline shouting, eyebrows furrowed in genuine child wonder.

Laura and Wanda exchanged a panicked look, before they head a crash come from the direction of the kitchen. “Clint?” Laura called out, “Is everything okay in there?”

They heard a grunt, then “Yeah. _So_ didn’t fall off the counter, what are you talking about?”

“Is it because of what Wanda said?”

“...No.”

Wanda shook her head and rolled her eyes. Men were so fragile. “Grandpa Clint are you okay in there?” bellowed Cassie. She then hopped off her chair and ran into the kitchen to check when the only reply was a few grunts. “Oh no, Grandpa Clint you did fall! And then you lied about it! It’s okay, Dr. Cassie is here to help!”

“So,” Laura took Cassie’s now empty seat, “Are you comfortable with going back to Dr. Cho?”

“Oh, I’m not going to Dr. Cho. After word got around to the other hotels that I was accidentally inseminated Stark requested Dr. Cho stop practicing for the time being. Legal matters that would probably make Hope happy. The only other OBGYN Stark covers is Dr. Strange.” Wanda explained.

The decision not to sue Dr. Cho was not one that had been made. For one thing, Cho’s office was protected by Stark and Wanda was not exactly an ally to the company. Any attempt to press for legal action might result in the termination of her job, Wanda feared. Except on the other hand, Wanda now had a lot of cost to cover. There would be a doctor’s visit every month until the second to last where there would be two, and then one each week during the last month. Something would have to make up for all the days of work she missed. Then came the hospital stay, and the impending hospital bill. If she chose adoption there might be travel involved. And if she kept the child- there was a small, small, small chance- well she might as well start buying lottery tickets. Steve and Sam had suggested that Wanda just threaten to sue, or even go public, and Stark Industries’ lawyers would be on their knees ready to negotiate any number to keep her quiet. But Hope wanted a blow, one with _force_ and she reasoned she could get one too. Why should Wanda have to stay quiet when it was Stark’s doctor who should have her license revoked?

“Never trust a Stark,” was all Hope would say when Wanda asked her about digging further.

“The doctor’s name is _Strange?_ Isn’t that a little, well, strange to you?” Laura questioned.

“Everything about this is strange to me now that this,” Wanda gestured to where her hand lay on her torso. “is my reality. Given the past eight weeks, I’ve come to expect strange.”

**And strange it’s about to get!**

“The whole thing just seems so odd to me, I guess I’m still getting used to it. But it does remind me,” her foster mother stopped to pull out her cellphone and began typing, “I have to do something.”

“What?” Wanda asked, trying to lean over the table to see. There was a look on Laura’s face she just didn’t trust. Laura swatted Wanda’s hand away, before putting her phone back in her pocket.

“Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong.”

“Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong, is exactly what Pietro frantically tells me when he’s at my apartment door at three in the morning losing it because he and Crystal had unprotected sex.”

“Unprotected what?” they heard Cassie yell from the kitchen, and then a loud _WHACK!_ “Oh no, Grandpa, you hit your head again! Is it because you were unprotected?”

Wanda had her hands wound up in her hair, trying to process exactly what she had just done. “Did you just tell Cassie about sex? Unprotected sex, no less?” Laura whispered, her hand over her mouth in shock.

“Oh, Scott is going to kill me!” Okay, so maybe she should just give the baby up for adoption. Someone more mature, with more money, who could keep their mouth shut about their brother’s sexual habits-

**God, Pietro is such a slut.**

-at least until they were old enough to understand, and even then, maybe not even explain another person’s sexual deviations at all. There was a high chance that if Wanda raised Little Fetus, their first words would probably Sokovian swear words and they’d know about birds and bees before their seventh birthday. Just another reason she was unfit to be a mother.

There was some moaning from the kitchen causing Laura to ask what was wrong. “I hit my head on the counter! Last thing I need to know about is Pietro’s-”

**Sluttiness?**

“-well, I’m not going to say it in front of Cassie _unlike some people!_ ”

“Hey! It was an accident!” Wanda protested, adding “ _If it’s anybody’s fault it’s my brother’s he’s the one still sleeping with his slutty ex._ ” in Sokovian because she suspected that even though Pietro was sleeping on her couch he was still meeting up with Crystal and she’d bet money they were still sleeping together.

Laura was way past what was happening in the kitchen to her husband (“No, Cassie, I’m fine, I don’t need help-” “ _I’m_ the doctor Grandpa!” “Okay, okay…”) and still had a burning for question, Wanda. “Will Vince be joining us at the doctor?”

Wanda grimaced. She should have seen that coming.

**You didn’t see that- you know what, never mind I’ll stop interrupting.**

It wasn’t that things were awkward with her almost high school sweetheart who ended up being the accidental father of her accidental baby. When Wanda came to tell him that she had decided to keep the baby, even if she wasn’t doing it for him or even for her, what she had anticipated to be a difficult conversation had actually been an easy one. Vince understood, or at least he put on the facade that he approved. To Wanda, Vince looked relieved she was keeping Little Fetus at all, and that she had promised to keep him involved in the process. The nostalgic tone of the meeting had Wanda relaxed; no longer was she completely alone in this mess (though her family had been supportive of each and every decision she had made in the last eight weeks, it was different as Vince had a direct biological connection and had literally put all his eggs in one basket with Wanda; like her, this had just happened to him, a cruel and unplanned twist of fate.). All night he was calm, he was kind and thoughtful, he was respectful beyond her wildest dreams, and when he caught her when she falling hard-

“Wanda?” she head Laura snap her fingers somewhere in the distance in front of her face.

**Snapping fingers. Pfft…. oh right, I said I was going to stop interrupting.**

“You still there, Wanda?” Laura tried again. Wanda nodded. “So, is Vince coming?”

Wanda looked down at her hands. “Oh yeah, he’s coming.” _He should be._

“You sound like that disappoints you.” her foster mother frowned and Wanda let out a long sigh.

“It’s just,” she stuttered, then sighed again before continuing, “I thought after I told him I was keeping the baby we’d talk more.”

“What do you mean?”

“That we’d talk. About the pregnancy. When we talked last time he asked about my morning sickness and offered days off, he just seemed so concerned and worried.” Wanda twirled a strand of her auburn hair, thinking back to that night, and the quiet ones that followed. “I thought I would see him around the hotel and we would talk. But I almost never see him, he’s always _so_ busy with his job-”

Clint chose then to come in from the kitchen, a cold press on his head and a bandaid on his left eyebrow. “Not to defend the guy but someone did just get stabbed to death in his hotel.”

“And I can imagine his job’s already pretty hard, Tony and those guys work 24/7.” Laura added.

“He’s just caught between a rock and a hard place.” shrugged Clint.

His wife nodded in agreement. “And I’m sure the media attention is adding a lot of stress-”

“You’d think he’d have _some_ energy left over to attend to me!” Wanda shouted, throwing her hands up in the air. Laura and Clint just looked at her with stunned expressions. Cassie whimpered, and that’s when panic flooded her veins and tears came to her eyes as she realized what she’d done. Did she just lash out? At Clint and Laura?

_Little Fetus, you’ve turned me into a monster._

“I’m sorry.” Wanda whispered, wiping her eyes. “Pregnancy hormones, well you know.”

There was a hand on Wanda’s shoulder, and she relaxed. “It’s okay, kiddo.”

“We shouldn’t have even been taking his side,” Laura took her hand from across the table. “Right, Clint?”

“Yeah, what an asshole.”

“Clint!” Laura and Wanda yelled in accusing voices, and Cassie giggled.

“Grandpa said a bad language word!” the little girl’s laughter crescendoed, easing Wanda’s elevating anxiety. “Uncle Steve is gonna be so mad!”

Clint’s frown, all of Clint’s facial expressions really, never failed to remind Wanda of the Grumpy Cat meme (a similarity pointed out by Sam), and she found herself laughing along with her niece. “Hey at least I didn’t tell a four year old about unprotected sex-”

“Clint, stop, you’re making it worse!” Laura and Wanda howled with laughter for a few minutes, and it was finally dying down when Cassie said,

“I’m five, Grandpa.”

And then it was a few more minutes before Laura and Wanda could stop laughing about that, especially when Clint started to pout. “Hey, I thought we were mad at Vince!”

“Oh right, we are.” Laura said, taking a deep breath to compose herself. “Oh, what are we going to do with you, Vince?”

“It’s not like I’m asking him to commit to me as if he were my husband,” sighed Wanda. “but he hasn’t even given me a phone number. The only place I know to find him is the suite he has in the hotel, and he’s not there during my hours. I had to find his office a couple days ago just to tell him about this appointment.”

“How did that go?” Laura asked.

Again, Wanda grimaced and looked down at her hands. The second Dr. Strange’s office contacted her about an upcoming appointment, she’d wanted to tell Vince immediately. At that point it had only been a few days since their talk, and Wanda was making nothing of how the father of her child was nowhere to be seen. Like her foster parents, she reasoned he was busy; Stark Industries had its handful with the murder and Karen’s upcoming trial, and the media was having a goddamn field day. Wanda assumed she would see Vince passing soon.

But then a week and a half had gone by and there was still no sign of him. Asking her coworkers proved to be no help.

“Have you guys seen Vince- I mean, Mr. Anderson anywhere? I can’t seem to find him. 

“Oh you looking for Robot Jesus?” Quill looked up from his empty bar where he was drying glasses and listening to Blue Suede. One of the women from housekeeping named Maddie, but everyone called her Mantis (“because she looks like a bug!” a janitor, Drax would say when asked why she was called that, even though Gamora would come in and say she _didn’t_ look like a bug, and Drax contested that with “Look at her giant eyes!” and so the nickname stuck) sat on one of the barstools repeatedly opening and closing a tiny paper umbrella.

“Robot...Jesus?” Wanda attempted to mask the confusion from her face, but she wasn’t successful.

“Right, you weren’t there when we picked a nickname. Me and Gamora-”

“Gamora and I!” corrected Mantis, whose eyes stayed on the tiny umbrella.

“Yeah, whatever.” Quill shrugged. “Anyway we thought he looked like Jesus and then Wade said he looked like a robot. Ta-dah! Robot Jesus!”

**Nevermind that Jesus wasn’t white, but whatever.**

“That’s all there is to that story?” Wanda planted her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes.

“I think he looks like C-3PO!” A voice from underneath the bar said.

Wanda looked over the mahogany counter. “Danvers?”

“The very same!”

“What are you doing under there?”

“Taking a nap. This job’s been a snooze since they arrested Karen.” explained Carol, propping herself up on a pillow she’d stashed under the bar. “Why are you looking for Mr. Anderson? Gonna ask him out?”

“Bow-chicka-wow-wow.” Quill winked at her.

“No! Definitely _not!_ ” _Please, for the love of God, do not be blushing!_ “I am pregnant with another man’s child, how awkward would that be?”

“You stare at him.” Mantis looked up at her, (Okay, so _maybe_ her eyes were big?) “And he stares at you.”

It took Wanda a couple of seconds to process what the other woman said to her. _He stares at me?_  It didn’t help that Quill and Carol were still looking at her with wide, eager eyes, Quill trying not to giggle because apparently he had the maturity of a third grader. “How can he stare at me, he’s never around?”

“Hmm, she’s got a point. I haven’t seen him like all week and usually he comes and asks for music recommendations.” Quill’s eyebrows furrowed. “You seen him, Danvers?” Carol shook her head.

“Oh well, I am going to try and find him.” Wanda tapped the bar with her painted nails and turned. As she walked away she heard Mantis: “She’s hiding something.”

“Oh yeah.” Carol added.

“Totally hiding something.” agreed Quill. “You guys want to bet on what it is?”

Wanda’s search would reveal nothing. The next few days morphed into the next week and she was considering calling _The Maria’s_ front desk and hoping someone would transfer her to his office phone when she finally did see him. He was on the phone again, running a hand through his strawberry blonde hair, and walking so fast he didn’t even see her.

“Vince?” Wanda thought out loud as she saw him. “Vince!”

Still on the phone call, he came to a fast stop, whirled around and put his hand on his forehead in frustration, “My deepest apologies, but as I said earlier I will look into the matter of locker rooms at my earliest convenience and until then I am occupied-”

“Vince, are- are you okay?” Wanda asked him, not even trying to hide the worry in her voice. His usually tall frame seemed to shrink, as if his bad high school posture were making a return. The bags under his eyes told Wanda he hadn’t slept recently. And why was he talking to her like she was just another nameless problem?

“Oh, Ms. Maximoff,” Vince stuttered, a scattered look in his blue eyes, “I’m terribly sorry about that.” He was then hanging up on his cell phone and his previously tense shoulders relaxed. Wanda took a deep breath, conquering her panic. When he called her Ms. Maximoff she worried they’d taken two steps back.

“You look very stressed.” Wanda told him, and he ran his hands through his hair once more. “Is it the job?”

The answer was obvious, but she couldn’t help her concern. “Oh, yes, it is. With the press attempting to barrel down our doors at any moment and my staff rather consumed with boredom they’ve gotten into mischief-”

**Only this guy would say mischief in a serious sentence.**

“-that I can not quantify or contain, for that matter.” It was his turn to take a deep breath. “But I am rambling. Did you need something, I do not have much time.”

Oh. Wanda bit her lip. So she was another nameless problem. She wanted to kick herself for thinking she could be something more than a damn incubator to him. If Wanda was not worth it to him back when they were seventeen, then how could she be something now? “I just wanted to let you know I have a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday of next week at 2:00, in case you can find time in your very busy schedule to be apart of this. I did promise I would keep you involved. It’s with Dr. Stephen Strange. I’m sure you can find the address, but only if you have time. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

**Oh, damn. Oh,** **_damn._ **

Wanda did not wait around for a response. _Pathetic. You’re pathetic, girl._ She could hear the voice of her birth father as she walked away from him, making a useless effort not to let the tears win (stupid pregnancy hormones! Stupid Little Fetus!) and for once, she agreed with the angry voice in her head.

“I kinda feel like it’s my fault you never see him.” Clint said from behind her.

Wanda shook her head. “It isn’t your fault, you are just doing your job. It’s not like you asked for someone to die. You can’t control these things.”

“Yeah, but if I’d known you were looking for him, I’d just tell him off myself.” laughed Clint but his foster daughter rolled her eyes.

“It would only complicate things if he knew you were my foster father.” she told him, even though with Clint going to the doctors appointment, their meeting was inevitable.

“Hopefully when they find the monster who killed Daniel Fisher and this all blows over Vince can pay attention to the right things, since he’s the one who wants this kid so badly.” Laura smiled, brushing her hair back.

“Yeah,” Wanda nodded. “God, why am I crying?” _Why do I even care?_

“Because you’re pregnant, sweetie.” Laura poked her stomach.

“Ah, crap, you guys it’s almost two o’clock. We’re going to be late for your appointment kiddo, come on, we gotta move! Cassie,” a sigh from Clint, then “you didn’t feed my keys to the dog again did you?”

_

**So that’s where Wanda’s at, confused and conflicted and surrounded by everyone’s different opinions. For Vince, halfway across the city, things weren’t much different.**

 

**_Stark Towers, 12th floor, 1:05 pm._ **

Vince hadn’t slept in three days. On one hand, he was quite used to sleepless nights. His body was almost inhuman in many ways; he could go days without sleep, rarely did he feel hunger, and functioned normally without the same energy as most, as if he was more machine than human. But, part of him remained man, and that part needed rest and sustenance. The past few days granted him no pause, however, in his busy schedule and his mind would not quiet. He could not turn his thoughts away from _The Maria,_ Daniel Fisher’s cold lifeless body in a pool of his own blood, the waitress Karen’s fate, the way the media was never satiated no matter what bone he threw them, and then there was Wanda...

“Dude, you look like hell.” A voice interrupted Vince’s soliloquy. Rhodey had entered Stark’s spacious living are where Vince had stowed away, carrying a martini. Odd given it was only an hour past noon, but not out of character for Rhodes. “Haven’t seen you like this, since well, chemo. You sure you’re okay?”

“Sleep evades me.” Vince muttered, twisting the ring on his finger, the topaz jewel sparkling in the sunlight coming from Stark’s floor to ceiling windows.

“Well that much was obvious, you talk like a Shakespeare character when running low on battery. Give Thor a run for his money.” Rhodey took a seat next to him, crossing his leg over his knee, a sign he was comfortable. “You know this is going to be over soon, right? They’ll convict the waitress and business will go back to normal, look it’s already kinda picking back up now.”

“What if she didn’t do it?” Vince ran a hand through his hair, a nefarious habit he’d picked up in the last weeks.

Rhodey shrugged and took another sip of his martini. “Then they’ll find the person who did do it, and that’ll be the end of that.”

_If only it were that easy,_ Vince thought to himself. “And if it isn’t?”

“Okay, I’m not sure what you’re getting at. Look, Vision, you just need some sleep-”

“It won’t help.” Rhodey’s eyes went wide. His close friend had never interrupted him, always playing the role of the polite gentleman. “I am beginning to fear that there is something larger at play here. Yes, Daniel Fisher’s case may come to a close but what if there is something more, something else?”

“Honestly, Vision…” sighed Rhodey, “I think you’re being paranoid. When this is all over, and it _will_ be over soon, you should take a vacation.”

“I cannot afford to leave _The Maria_. The homicide is not the only thing my mind has been occupied with,” was Vince’s tight-lipped response.

“It’ll be fine for a few days-oh. _Oh_. That’s what this is about.”

“Oh, thank God! Tony, I found them! They’re in here!” Pepper was then at the doorway, dawning a light teal dress and matching heels. Her fiance appeared in the doorway a second later, in classic suit Vince always knew meant he was taking work seriously for the time being. It would have amused him for a second that the color of Tony’s tie matched Pepper’s dress, had it not been for the exhaustion currently making his eyes heavy.

“Hey, good job Pepper, I guess I owe you five dollars after all.” Tony bumped her shoulder. “But for the record, this was next room I was going to check.”

Pepper ignored Tony’s comment and walked to the satin couch Rhodey and Vince where were sitting, the clicking of her heels echoing off the marble floor and high ceilings, causing Vince’s headache to spike. It was her slightly raised eyebrows and the way her hands were planted on her hips when she was in front of them indicated a heavy degree of annoyance. Vince let his shoulders fall, a futile effort to make himself invisible. “Where have you been Vision? We got your text saying you here like an hour ago and we’ve been looking for you ever since! We were worried sick!”

“Yeah buddy, this building is huge, you gotta be more specific.” said Tony as he walked their way.

“What was that idea you had about chipping him?” Rhodes wondered out loud. Vince merely put his head in his hands. “That way we could keep an eye on him.”

“We need to be able to track you by satellite, and you said no to that Track My Family app. With the way you disappear, I’m gonna have to agree with Rhodes.” Tony sat across the three of them on a leather futon that complemented the neutral color scheme of the room. Great, now Vince’s brain was starting to compartmentalize the patterns of area surrounding him. God, he _was_ exhausted.

“Yeah, I mean _you_ were the one who suggested it.” Rhodes was pointing out back in the reality Vince wasn’t quite in.

A look of remembrance came over Tony. “Oh yeah that was my idea. I guess I just have so many that it’s hard to remember them all.” he commented with so much false grandeur that Pepper rolled her eyes.

“Vision’s not a pet,” she sighed. “You chip little yappy dogs and I don’t know, hamsters? Not your friends.”

“Yeah, Vision’s just a robot.” Rhodey laughed and Vision granted himself an eyeroll of his own.

**Ahem, it’s** **_android,_ ** **thank you very much.**

“I’m sorry, are we just going to ignore Pepper’s multi million dollar plan to chip pet hamsters?” Tony leaned back in his chair and studied his friend when no one laughed at his joke. “Vision, buddy, when’s the last time you got any sleep?”

The highly irritated part of his personality wanted to demand why people kept asking him when the answer was obvious in the dark circles under his eyes, but another quieter part of him knew they were only expressing their concern. They were his friends after all.

This afternoon had been the first time he’d had any real social contact that wasn’t with Maria Hill bossing him over the phone or hordes of reporters in the lobby and their consistent follow up emails in two weeks. As of late, Vince was beginning to wonder if he was merely an actor upon a stage, fulfilling a fictional role, his lines scripted for him. Once again, he had become a puppet.

Of course, there was his staff, but like the reporters, Vince had made a considerable effort to avoid them as well. Boredom and apathy were among their attitudes as they had little to do with only a few brave patrons checked in and he could not entertain them. The waitresses, the bus boys, housekeeping, bellhops and the like were beginning to exhibit a great deal of creativity in the hours they were required to be at work. (Tony, convinced as Rhodey was that this storm would pass, advised no one be laid off.) Just last week he caught one of his waitresses sleeping under the bar in the restaurant as well as two bellhops by the pool trying to best each other of who could keep their heads under the water the longest. Yesterday Vince caught his bartender and another waitress making out in a janitor’s closet, half undressed and very disheveled. It had been an awkward encounter.

**Ten bucks he just shut the door and walked away. Another ten bucks that Drax and Mantis saw the whole thing and laughed about it for thirty minutes.**

If he was completely honest, Vince was hiding. From the staff, from the reporters… from his friends. He was ignoring their emails, their phone calls, their texts. He wanted to be alone. When the hours of work began to take a toll on him, he would steal off to the roof of _The Maria_ and spend hours staring at vast empty sky, trying to make sense of the thoughts crowding his mind. At least at during his sleepless nights he had the company of the stars, and they remained silent.

“Approximately 72 hours ago.” Vince gave a defeated answer to Tony’s previous question.

“Three days, dude? How are you still functioning? How have you not short circuited?” Rhodes asked, a smile present on his face at his joke. But Vince heard the concern in his voice still.

“That’s not healthy, Vision.” Pepper sat next to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are the essential oils not helping? Damn it, I thought they’d help you after how well they worked with Tony’s insomnia.”

“My apologies Pepper, but they do little to combat this level of stress.” Vince said in a futile attempt to ease her sense of failure.

“Why don’t you just crash here, like right now? Take like three hours, the hotel won’t miss you. We got tons of sweet guest rooms no one’s using, giant king bed, a little sleep and you’ll be ready to take on the world.” offered Tony, a genuine smile on his face.

“I appreciate the offer,” It wasn’t a lie, he truly was grateful, but still he gave a long sigh, “I promised Wanda I would meet her at her doctor’s appointment.”

Later, Vince would look back and remember the nervous look shared between Tony and Pepper. However Rhodes made nothing of it and neither did Vince at the time. “First name basis now?”

“She requested I call her that.” answered Vince.

“Oh, so you guys are talking now, and like what, hanging out? Is it awkward being around her?” Rhodes inquired.

“Yes.” That was a blatant lie. The first night, yes, it was awkward but it wasn’t as awkward as he anticipated. He made Wanda nervous, that much was obvious and he was angry with himself because of it, but Wanda took the lead and eased them into conversation by discussing high school. It had been so long since he had connected with those memories and it struck Vince as odd that he could have forgotten Wanda Maximoff.

And had there been a moment there… No, no that wasn’t possible. He must have imagined it.

Vince had not meant to avoid Wanda. It, perhaps, was just simpler to avoid everyone than to be selective with one person. She made it obvious she didn’t want special attention. Yet deep down he knew that was not the real reason he was avoiding her.

That night they spoke, there awakened in him a longing, a human desire he thought he’d overcome. A desire for companionship, maybe. A desire to relieve himself of the emptiness inside him. And yet- it was insane. Wanda Maximoff was no more to him than a surrogate, merely a biological link to the child she carried. He must not present himself as overly dedicated, but then Vince knew he had crossed a line when he was short with her after the phone call that day in the hallway. It had only been eight weeks and he was already messing this up.

_Like you always do._ A dark, familiar voice whispered in the back of his mind.

“They have you come to the doctor at eight weeks? Hmm, I always thought it was later.” Pepper said, bringing Vince back to the present.

“The heart is beating at this point in development,” Vince informed them, recalling the fact from his earlier reading of pregnancy. He had spent his sleepless nights bookmarking (he’d be caught dead before he dogeared a page in a book) and highlighting different passages of _What to Expect When You’re Expecting._ There were others books Vince was studying as well, some geared more to the development of the fetus and a few dedicated to the experience of the father.

Vince glanced at his watch. 1:27 pm. He would have to leave given the traffic he discovered earlier was common on the route to Dr. Strange’s office when he checked Google Maps.

“I should be going, but thank you all for your advice.”

But as Vince began to make his way to door, Tony stood up behind. “Right, we should probably get there early.”

“Good idea,” Vince turned around to find Pepper ushering Rhodes and Tony in his direction. “I’ll text Natasha to meet us at the car. She should be around here somewhere.”

“You coming Vince?” Rhodes asked turning back to him, as he stopped midway while the others walked out the door.

“Wait a minute- you’re not all coming with you, are?”

**Of course Vision! What kind of soap-opera-based story would we have if they didn’t?**

 

_

 

**New character time! Meet Stephen Strange, a extraordinary medical professional now working in a rather ordinary medical office and with rather ordinary medical staff. Well, he’s thinks they’re ordinary but he just started his job and he’s not quite through his character development enough to appreciate the beauty of the world around him. He’ll get there, he’ll get there, at least that’s what Nurse Wong says around here. But will get to him in a little bit...**

“Just fill out this form and when it’s completed you can bring it back to me with your insurance card and I’ll run it through our system.”

Wanda took the clipboard from the nurse’s desk, saying a thank you to the woman at the computer, and told her she liked her scrubs with puppies on them before she took a seat in the lobby. Cassie climbed into the seat next her as Laura and Clint sat across from them. “Aunt Wanda, are these doctors gonna give you a lollipop?”

“I hope so.” she smiled at her niece as she filled out the nurse’s form with a blue pen that kept running out of ink. _Stupid thing! Shouldn’t a doctor’s office be able to afford nice pens?_

**Why, so you can steal them? Cause that’s what I do.**

Wanda continued to fill each blank. Sex, birthday, allergies, shaking the pen every few minutes to get the ink moving. Spouse name? She left that one blank.

“Are they gonna give you a shot?” asked Cassie waving her princess wand at her aunt. Like most days- except for the days when her parents had to wash the outfit and she dressed as a pirate, Cassie was dressed in a pink princess dress, a tiara on her head and a plastic wand in her hand.

A shudder, then a deep breath. Wanda tried not to think about shots, or needles. She had deep, unrelenting fear of their shiny silver ends. They haunted her nightmares, among other things. “No, not today.” Wanda tried to put on a happy face for Cassie, pinching the young girl’s nose.

“Well if they do,” Cassie spread her skirt out around her, “then you can hold my daddy’s hand like I do when they give me shots. I cry but then he makes me laugh.”

“It’s okay, Cass, I promise I’ll be strong since your daddy is not here. Besides, I have you to make me laugh.” giggled Wanda, taking Cassie’s hand in hers and squeezing. Cassie squeezed back and kicked her feet up.

“Oh don’t worry, he’s coming.” the little girl announced.

“What?” Wanda sent a look in Laura’s direction, whose gaze was on the ceiling, conveniently. “Scott’s _not_ coming, is he?”

Her answer was the clink of the door opening, and sounds of people flooding into the small lobby. Wanda sighed and put her head in her hands.

“Hey little red, how you doing?”

When she looked up, she saw exactly what she expected to see. Pietro, hands in the pockets of his blue sports blazer, staring at the ceiling and making a face. Wanda rolled her eyes- he was terrible at hiding his guilt. Sam and Steve, bright smiles on their faces, acting completely normal probably because they didn’t think this at all out of the ordinary. Behind them, Hope on her cellphone, typing away and Scott, standing on his tiptoes (he was so much shorter than the others) shouting “Hi peanut!”

“Hi Daddy!” Cassie shouted back. Wanda was glaring at Pietro, who still wouldn’t look at her. “This doctor’s office smells funny!”

“Yeah, how old is this building, like 100 years?” Steve was looking around at the water stains and chipped paint. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the nurse’s shoulders slump as she rolled her eyes, never once stopping her typing as she did so.

**Well you would know, Steve.**

“Dude, Pietro, there’s a roach under your foot.” Sam nudged Wanda’s brother.

“Ah, gross!” yelped Pietro, adding several Sokovian curses to the end of his sentence.

“What are all of you doing here?” asked Wanda in a defeated tone.

“We came to support you, girl!”

“You brought Luis?” she sighed, just now noticing the group had gotten a little bigger while Pietro’s loud cursing covered up the sound of the door opening.

“Oh yeah, he was just with us-” Gesturing to Hope and himself, Scott began to explain. Wanda slumped in her chair. “-at this big board meeting, so we thought we’d bring him along, it was on his way home.”

“Yeah,” nodded Luis enthusiastically, “plus I got a text from Laura! Sup, Laura!”

“Hi Luis.” Laura waved.

“You invited Luis?” Wanda asked, glaring daggers at her foster mother. “What, did you have everybody over and tell them to come to my doctor appointment?”

Laura bit her lip, “Well-”

“Oh nah she invited me over on the group chat!” Luis jumped in and Wanda’s eyes went wide.

“You have a group chat? _All_ of you? Why am I not in it?” she asked, about to throw the clipboard at her twin; he thought it would be better not to let her in on _any_ of this despite living in her apartment and eating her cooking.

Sam came to Laura’s rescue. “Well when Hope made it she literally named it ‘Wanda’s pregnancy group chat but don’t tell Wanda because she’ll be upset we’re talking about her’ so we didn’t think we should tell you…”

Wanda looked down at the clipboard and wondered how hard she’d have to throw it to hit Sam’s head, have it bounce off and hit Hope. _You Little Fetus,_ she thought to herself, _and your little hormones are giving me very evil ideas._

_“_ Hope.” Wanda stood up and handed the clipboard back to the nurse (who was watching the whole event with intrigued eyes) for fear she might actually throw it at her friend. She stood in front of the group and planted her hands on her hips. Wanda didn’t see it, but behind her Cassie straightened up and copied her aunt. “Explain yourself.”

“Wanda,” sighed Hope, “I promise we weren’t just messaging about you behind your back to gossip. We’re just trying to bounce ideas off each other on how we can best help you right now.” Pietro and Scott nodded in agreement, but also out of fear under Wanda’s signature glare. Steve and Sam remained unaffected.

“How is all of you coming here today helping me?”

“Wanda, don’t be mad at Hope or Laura, this was all my idea.” Steve said.

**The group chat or invading the doctor’s office?**

“Steve!” Wanda threw her hands up in the air.

“We just thought,” started Steve, “that because you don’t have a partner-”

**I love Steve Rogers, my gender-neutral loving boy-scout.**

“that maybe you could use, you know, at little extra support right now.”

Sam nodded his agreement. “Yeah, we didn’t even know if baby daddy was gonna be here today.”

“He’s supposed to be.” muttered Wanda, rubbing her arm. It had not gone unnoticed that it was five minutes past two and Vincent Anderson was nowhere to be seen.

“Okay!” the nurse spoke up, her peppy voice startling everyone. “Miss Maximoff, I’ve run you through the system, sorry it took so long, this computer is like from 2005. But we’re all good, and I can just take you back here so we can weigh you and get your blood pressure and all that good stuff-”

“Sharon?” Steve said all of a sudden from the back of the group. He pushed to the front, excusing himself as he gently stepped over feet.

“Steve?” the blonde nurse narrowed her eyes, before a look of surprise came over her face. “Oh my gosh, how are you? I haven’t seen you since-”

“Since junior ROTC!” Steve finished for her. Wanda knew she was not the only one who was super confused, even Sam looked completely lost.

“Wait you know this nurse?” Sam asked. His tone wasn’t hostile or jealous, Wanda noticed with a smile (her first smile since she’d been sitting with her niece), but genuinely curious. “Damn Rogers, you got moves!”

“Oh no,” both Steve and Sharon shook their head emphatically. “We knew each other back in high school.” Steve explained. Wanda thought back. Of course, she’d been occupied with adjusting to the U.S and working through her extensive list of emotional problems, and then there was Vince… but for the life of her she could not remember Steve ever mentioning Sharon. “I dated her cousin.”

“Oh, you’re Peggy’s cousin!” Laura jumped out of her seat, and there were sounds of recognition from everyone except Luis, but then the room grew solemn. Wanda did remember Peggy, and that she’d been dating Steve. The night Vince was supposed to take her to prom, Steve took Peggy. Pictures of the two posing on the stairs of the Farmhouse were in Laura’s scrapbooks somewhere. They’d also been displayed at Peggy’s funeral a year later when she died suddenly of the leukemia she’d was trying to fight so hard her last year of high school.

There was a sad light in the nurse’s eyes, a look of unimaginable loneliness in them, the same kind that haunted Wanda’s those long years after her parents died in the bombings. But then she smiled, and the damp room lit up again. “Yeah, those two used to drag me on double dates with them.”

Sam let out a loud laugh. “I bet those were disasters!” Sharon nodded and Sam laughed even louder, Cassie joining in. At some point, she’d made her way into the crowd to stand by her father and Hope.

“Hey, they weren’t _that_ bad!” defended Steve.

“They were _terrible!_ Remember when we went bowling and you tried to hook me up with James Travis and he-”

“Spilled his drink on you!” Now Steve was laughing. “Okay _that_ one was terrible, I’ll give you that.”

“Let me guess, he never set you up with any good guys?” Sam asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Nope!” the nurse smiled, “you have terrible taste in men, Rogers.” She then winked.

“What was that about?” Wanda heard Scott whisper to Hope.

**Oh, you’ll find out. *wink***

“Dude, I dunno, but I’m totally digging the nostalgic vibe of this whole thing, you get what I’m saying?” It was definitely Luis who’d answered Scott, not Hope.

“We should catch up sometime,” Sharon was telling Steve, who then told her he would message her on Facebook.

**There goes Steve acting like an old man again, still using Facebook.**

Sharon nodded, only to turn to Wanda. “But for now I should probably take Wanda back so she can see the doctor-”

“Oh, is it cool if we come with?” Steve asked. Wanda glanced behind her only to see the look of eternal hope on Steve’s face. _Oh, come on! They are getting too lucky. First Laura spills the beans on the appointment, and then Steve just happens to know the head nurse so they can sneak back with me?_ She bit her lip and told herself to be calm. There was another part of her that wanted to remember just how hard they were trying.

Bewilderment was written all over Sharon’s face. “Um, I guess… If it’s okay with you Wanda?”

She just shrugged in defeat. Luis whooped.

“I mean my boss will probably complain about it,” Sharon pointed out, “but then again he complains about everything. 

So, as if it happened like this on everyone else’s first appointment, Nurse Sharon took Wanda- and her “support group” back through a door into a tiny foyer (“They are _more_ roaches in here!” “ _Stop_ breathing on me Luis!”) they barely all fit in, and Wanda finally had an opportunity to speak with her foster mother when she more or else cornered the woman. “So, that thing you were doing on your cell phone earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“You were texting them that they changed doctors and they would need a new address.”

Laura bit her lip, then sighed. “I promise Wanda, we’re only here because we love you. If it was any of us in this situation, we know you’d be right here too. And I can promise I won’t drag _everybody_ here next time.”

“Or anytime?” Wanda couldn’t help the hope in her voice. Laura only winked.

Sharon then asked Wanda in her cheery voice to take her shoes off and step on a scale that looked to be over fifteen years old. It keep creaking as Sharon wrote down Wanda’s weight.

“Can I ask why everything’s so outdated in here? I can’t imagine Stark sending any of his employees with old computers and rusty scales.” Steve directed his cool comment toward  Sharon as if no time had passed in their friendship.

The nurse shrugged. “We just relocated about three months ago. Actually, there was a series of OBGYN clinics that were targeted by this arsonist, and we got hit.”

“Oh my god,” Sam’s mouth dropped open, “did anybody get hurt?”

“Well, we got lucky. The guy, or girl, I’m not sure, they hit really late at night. No one was in the building, but all our equipment was destroyed, so we had to rent this place out here until we can get better funding, and maybe our office rebuilt, but we’re still waiting to hear on that.” explained Sharon after taking Wanda’s blood pressure. Cassie had come to take her hand and Pietro was making _that_ face at her again.

“ _Isn’t he supposed to be here?”_ he leaned over and whispered in their native language.

Wanda choked back tears, avoiding her brother’s gaze. Stupid hormones. This was the last place she needed to cry, and the last people she needed to cry in front of. _“I’d thought he come.”_ Apparently whatever they had shared a few nights ago in his hotel suite amounted to nothing.

_“I’m gonna find him and kick his ass.”_

Wanda snorted, rolling her eyes. If only he knew who the father _really_ was. It was starting to look they might never meet.

“Why would someone set fire to a doctor’s office?” Laura asked.

“Yeah, and why an Obbylin?”

Rolling her eyes, Hope put her cellphone down for a brief second. “O-B-G-Y-N, Scott.”

“Yeah that’s what I said.”

“You know, it was probably because he hates women!” Luis jumped in before Sharon could give her own explantation. “Assuming this was a dude, women can be criminals too, I’m woke! But if it was a dude, he probably had like, some major sexist tendencies you know, and he didn’t like how these offices really help women even if they’re not like pregnant, you hear what I’m saying?”

Wanda could only stare at Luis, the blood pressure cuff still hanging limp on her arm because Sharon was staring wide eyed at him too.

“He’s a lot smarter than he looks.” Scott pointed at his friend and smiled. On the other hand, Wanda saw a look on Hope’s face that meant she had a migraine.

“Well, that’s what they told us.” nodded Sharon. She had finally moved from taking Wanda’s blood pressure to taking her temperature. “But sometimes I like to wonder if it was like a revenge crime.”

“And what kind of revenge would that criminal be seeking?” Steve chuckled.

“I don’t know, maybe like a doctor wronged them-” Sam burst out into laughter and again Sharon rolled her eyes, “I know, I know, it’s pretty crazy. But excuse me for daydreaming.”

“Girl, you watch too many crime shows,” wheezed Sam.

“Hey, Clint did you know about this? That sounds like something you would’ve handled.” Laura was asking.

Wanda saw her foster father give a half hearted shrug from where he stood, shoved into a corner. “Arson is the fire marshal’s problem, not ours.”

“Still,” Steve started, “I like your idea of a revenge crime a lot better than Luis’ theory. It’s pretty scary to think there’s some monster out there running around and burning medical offices just because of his blatant misogyny.”

**Well, one of you is right. And blatant misogyny is very common, Steve.**

_“So you’re going to tell me where he lives so I can go beat his face in, right?”_ whispered Pietro.

“ _I need you here Pietro, not in jail.”_

“Why are you whispering?” Cassie interrupted, a habit of hers when Pietro and Wanda spoke Sokovian, whispering herself.

“It’s nothing, peanut.” Wanda told her niece, squeezing her hand.

_“I’m just saying-_ ” Pietro began to go off again, Nurse Sharon and the others were still discussing the fires, when they were all interrupted by a voice from behind the door Sharon had took them through earlier.

“Yes, Tony, I am aware of how a door works but I believe it would be best if we waited for someone- yes, I know there is no one at the desk but that does not grant us permission, medical offices operate a certain way, you have to wait for someone-”

Suddenly the door burst open, hitting the wall with a _THWACK_ that made Scott jump, and for the second time in Wanda’s day, a group of unwanted, and frankly, unneeded, people poured into the foyer without any permission. There at the front of that group was Vince. Her heart, beating so fast she wondered if it was beating at all, dropped into her stomach. He was looking at her, and her only, his blue eyes full of concern and-

_No, no, we’re mad at him. You hear that, Little Fetus, we are mad at your father._

Exhaustion was still clear on his face when Wanda let herself look up at him again, his eyes heavy and his hair disheveled, and she allowed herself a brief second of sympathy, trying once again to understand what he had been through in the past two months which had surely been a roller coaster of unrelenting emotions-

“See, Vision, I told you it was unlocked!”

And it was gone.

For the first time in four years, her older foster brother (and possibly- no, _definitely_ her least favorite) stood in front of her. And he stood there like it was nothing, shoulders relaxed and wearing sunglasses _indoors_ of all ridiculous things (his ocean blue tie among them) - Tony Stark. Wanda glowered at him, wishing he would suddenly get propelled through the nearest wall. “Oh, there’s a lot of people in here. Wasn’t really expecting that, but okay.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” _Another_ man came through the door, followed by two women, one of which Wanda recognized immediately. She put her head in her hands, letting out a long sigh.

“God, it smells weird in here.” The other woman, a tall gorgeous blonde, said. A spark of jealousy ignited in Wanda, taking her by surprise. This woman wasn’t _with_ Vince, was she? Because there was no way Natasha was with him, Wanda knew her taste in men were along the lines of shy scientists with anger issues and a penchant for disappearing. If this blonde woman was with Vince- _No! No, we are not stooping to jealousy of all things. He is not yours, not in a million years. You have no right to him._ And just like that the spark had been snuffed, or so she believed.

“Um,” the nurse was looking from Tony, to Vince, and the others before turning back to Wanda with a confused expression. “Who are you people? I’m with a patient right now, so if you could wait in the lobby-”

“Oh no, we’re with her.” Tony said with a casual tone before gesturing to Wanda. Taking a deep breath, she took her brother’s hand, trying to ignore the anger coursing through her. She knew Pietro felt it too. “Or more accurately, he’s with her.”

Vince stepped forward, holding out his hand. “I’m Vincent Anderson, the uh, the father.” he stuttered. Wanda tilted her head to the side. Never had she seen him so nervous or shy. Expect maybe when-

“Oh so _you’re_ the father.” Pietro had dropped her hand and stepped to meet Vince. Pietro was tall, and had made a big deal out of their height difference since the moment he gained a few centimeters on her those days in Genosha, but next Vince he stood no chance, and lost any opportunity to be intimidating. But he never did give up easily, not when it came to protecting her. “You know, we’ve been waiting for you for like half an hour.”

“I understand, and I assure you I have a reason for my late arrival. You must be Pietro, Wanda’s twin brother. She’s told me a lot about you.” Again Vince extended his hand, but Pietro didn’t take it.

“You know what? I’m not going to shake your hand, I know who you are. You’re the reason Wanda’s even doing this-”

“ _Pietro, stop!”_ Wanda found herself yelling in Sokovian. _“Just back off, I have this handled.”_

_“But-”_

_“I do not need you to always protect me!”_ There was a hurt look on his face, but Pietro stepped away from Vince. Wanda stood to meet his blue eyes. “You came.”

“You asked.” He smiled at her, and for a moment, her anger was forgotten.

“I’m sorry about Pietro.” Wanda whispered for only him to hear.

“It is me who is at fault.” Vince shook his head. “I apologize for my lateness. There was more traffic than I anticipated and more…support than I asked for...”

Part of her wanted to laugh with him, to say she was in the same boat, but the other part held on tight to anger he inspired in her by being arrogant enough to drag Tony freaking Stark and his entourage to her doctor’s appointment.

“Who- who are all these people with you?” he asked in a whisper, looking over her where her surrogate family awaited an explanation and introduction.

Wanda grit her teeth. She could ask him the same thing. “You met Pietro, my ever protective twin. This is Steve Rogers,” Steve stepped forward to shake Vince’s hand, always the gentleman, “and his friend Sam Wilson. That’s Scott Lang and his girlfriend Hope, and Luis, I don’t why he’s here but he is, and this is my… my foster mother and father, Laura and Clint Barton.”

She watched Vince’s face for any sign of change when she said foster. There wasn’t any, not that she could notice. _Is that a good thing or a bad thing?_ Her internal answer was a wave nausea that sent her wobbling. A brief flash and Wanda began to panic that she was going to pass out in front of Vince, in front of _everyone_ , but then a small hand took hers and the wave passed.

“It’s good to see you again, Clint.” Vince shook her foster father’s hand, but he made no other comment about their meeting and the way their work and personal lives had suddenly become interwoven.

“You’re a very tall man.” Cassie told Vince, her head tilted and her face full of wonder. This took Vince by surprise, but only for a few seconds.

“Oh yes,” Vince looked down at himself, smiling at Cassie, “I suppose I am very tall.”

“You talk funny. Like my aunt and uncle talk funny, but different.” Cassie declared. She waved her wand at him and Vince’s laughed. Wanda felt the sensation of butterflies. _If you’re doing this, Little Fetus,_ but she had the sinking feeling it was not the one at fault for this.

“I see you are royalty.” his voice was happy as he talked with Cassie, kneeling down so he was eye level with her, telling her he was from a place where they had princesses, which of course, greatly interested Cassie. Wanda was taken back to that day at the pool side, when Vince offered to raise the child on his own if Wanda did not want to keep it. At the time she had doubted his commitment; on the premise of a high profile job with Stark’s company, how could he have any time to devote to a dependent person when he would either be at the hotel avoiding his employees or at one of Tony’s parties? Would he even make a good father, let alone a single father, she’d wondered? Maybe she didn’t have to.

“This is my niece, Cassandra.” Wanda said.

A look came over his face. “Niece…” he then spoke in a whisper, standing back up to his full height. “You did not mention you had other siblings.”

“Oooh, cold blooded, girl!” exclaimed Sam. Wanda looked behind her to see hurt looks on Scott and Steve’s faces.

“Technically, you are not apart of this family.” Wanda shot back, and Sam shrugged. “I had my reasons.” She had turned back to Vince, the volume of her voice had fallen as she stared behind him where Tony stood, whispering with the blonde woman and Natasha.

“Hey Sharon, did that deli guy come by yet? He was supposed to be here like any hour ago, but Wong hasn’t fixed the stupid phone yet and I could barely hear him when I was ordering.” Any conversation anyone was having (and there were many among the large group of people they’d managed to fit in a limited amount of space) was interrupted by a man striding down the hall, white coat trailing behind him, flipping through papers on his clipboard. “God, I miss my tablet. I can’t get anything done around here- Sharon?”

**I told you guys he’d get here!**

He looked at the nurse, eyebrows raised, “Yes?” Sharon straightened up.

“I assume this is the two o’clock, no?”

Sharon nodded.

“Okay… why are there so many people here?”

“Honestly,” Sharon looked around at all of them and sighed, “I only let the first half back here, those guys just let themselves in.”

“I thought Wong said he fixed the lock.”

“Apparently Wong lied.”

**I guess you can say that Wong…was wrong.**

Wanda took in the man, the doctor, she assumed from his coat. A tall presence, confident yet annoyed, facial hair matching his salt and pepper sideburns, gloves on his hands, of all things. Something about him was familiar, but Wanda didn’t think much of it. Since getting pregnant, everyone she met she brought her certain sense of deja vu.

“I think I’m going to have to ask some of you to leave.” the doctor surveyed them, and rolled his eyes when there were protests, “I’m sorry, it’s just a fire hazard- huh. Son of bitch, is that- it is. Tony Stark, didn’t think I’d heard the last of you.”

“Stephen Strange.” Stark stepped forward, a cocky grin on his face that Wanda wanted to punch off. “How are you enjoying being an obstetrician?”

The doctor sighed. “Well it’s not the challenge that being a neurosurgeon was-”

**No shit, Sherlock. I’m sorry, I just had to make that joke because** **_some certain directors decided not to!_ **

“-and the pay grade is definitely a step down, but-”

“I’m sorry,” interrupted Hope, her face skeptical. “You haven’t always been an obstetrician?”

“Yeah I used to work as brain surgeon, and I was pretty good at it too-”

“The best of the best.” Tony laughed. Wanda saw Pietro roll his eyes. She was right there with him.

“But then there was this car accident…” The doctor fell quiet. His eyes were on his clipboard.

“Dr. Strange, you don’t have to tell them.” whispered Sharon.

“It’s fine, Carter, it’s fine.” The doctor blinked a few times, as if he didn’t quite remember where he was. “I broke... my hands. Fractured them, was lucky they put them back together at all. They did heal, but not enough to keep a steady hand as a surgeon, and now I’m here.”

“So you keep pretty busy now?” asked Sam.

“I’m sorry?” Dr. Strange lifted an eyebrow.

“Like with all of Tony’s clients now that Dr. Cho’s not practicing?”

“What? Dr. Cho’s not- yeah she is, practicing, I mean. God knows they wouldn’t shut her down. Her office is a million times better than this nasty one just because of a little mixup. We only contacted Mrs. Maximoff because Tony requested it.”

“What?” Hope beat Wanda to it.

_Dr. Cho is still practicing? What, why? She did this to me, she’s ruined my whole life! Why would- fucking Stark. Fucking Stark. Of course this was his doing! He could never think of anyone but himself!_ Wanda whirled around, ready to scream at that awful excuse for a man, her anger making her dizzy but Vince had pulled him aside. Wanda’s anger surged when she saw him with Stark. Now she knew where his loyalties lay. Vince probably had as much to do with this as he did! _I want them out!_ She wanted to scream. _Now! I never want to see either of them again-_

“Why did you not inform me you requested this doctor to call Wanda?” Vince was whispering to Tony.

“Look,” Tony glanced over his shoulder only to find Wanda three seconds away from murdering him in front of everybody. “I can’t explain this right now, we’re just going to have to have this conversation later.”

“But-”

"Just trust me, buddy. Vision, I promise I got your back.”

“If- if you say so.”

Then they turned around, Vince’s face unreadable. He wouldn’t look at her.

“Still think we shouldn’t sue the doctor?” Hope was behind her all of sudden.

“We’re going to need a lawyer.” Wanda whispered back. She refused take her eyes off Vince.

“That’s my girl.”

“So which one of you is Wanda Maximoff?” Dr. Strange addressed them as nothing had happened. The bombshell he had just dropped on them went over his head.

“Me.” Wanda walked forward.

“You ready to go in?” Wanda nodded. “Okay, is there anyone you would like to come with you?”

“I’ll go, I’m her brother.” Pietro was by Wanda’s side immediately.

Dr. Strange gave them a confused look. “I was thinking more like the father, if he’s still in the picture, I mean-”

“Vision’s the father!” the blonde woman said.

“Vision? What the hell do you mean by Vision? ”

“Him.” Stark gestured to Vince. “So we should just go on in.”

“Tony, I do not believe that is the best idea-”

“Don’t worry Vision, I said we got your back.”

“Hey if anybody’s going with her it’s us, since we actually care about Wanda.”

“Oh, and we don’t Steve?”

Wanda pressed her hands to her forehead. _One, two, three, breathe Wanda, breathe..._

“Obviously! You’re just here for whatever his name is…”

“Vision.”

“Right, Vision.”

“Can we go in, we are technically her parents?”

“I was thinking one person should go…” Dr. Strange elaborated.

“I do not care who goes with me.” Wanda spit, making sure Vince was looking at her when she spoke.

“I can go!” Cassie volunteered, “I'm a princess!”  

“No, little girl-”

“ _We’ll_ go in, come on Scott!”

“Hey I said _one_ person-”

“Uh, we’re not letting a Pym CEO anywhere near this kid.”

“Oh, like it wants a Stark for an uncle.”

“We pay Vision’s salary, so technically I’m paying this kid’s college tuition.”

_Little Fetus, this would be a great time for us to pass out._

“I would like to go, I am the father-”

“Then why aren’t you even committed to getting here on time. _I’m_ going, right Wanda?”

_Any time now…_

_“_ Okay,” Dr. Strange sighed, “I was thinking someone who’s biologically related to this child-”

“That’s me, I’m Wanda’s brother, her last living family. I’m this kid’s only _real_ uncle!”

**Are we so sure about that? Like, either of those things?**

“That’s not fair to say, Dr. Strange. We care about Wanda, we’re her brothers too, technically. Some of us just care a little more.”

_Hello, Little Fetus? I know I’ve been mean to you but I could really use your help._

“Okay that was a low blow even for you, Rogers-”

“You know what, Stark?”

“Wanda, who do you want going with you?”

“Maximoff’s not the only one who matters here, Steve, Vision matters too.”

“Then why doesn’t Vision just come with us?” Dr. Strange suggested, annoyance on his face.

“Well, maybe he doesn’t want to and thinks somebody else should go instead, like I don’t know, her mother?”

_Thanks for nothing Little Fetus._

“Maybe he knows he’s not worthy of my sister.”

“I assure you, I did not intend on being late-”

“Princess Cassie should go!”

“Yo, if we’re volunteering to go can I volunteer? I got mad support skills, Wanda.”

“That moron is definitely not going!”

“Back off, he’s not a moron!”

“Well, yeah that’s obviously you.”

“Back off Scott, you red headed bi-”

“Hope, Cassie’s here remember!”

“Hey Daddy what’s unprotected sex?”

_“What?”_

“I just need you guys to pick _one_ person!”

“It should be me!”

“Uh, who decides that?”

“Wanda, duh!”

“Maximoff hasn’t picked anyone yet!”

“Wanda who do you want?”

“Who told you about sex, Cassie?”

“Aunt Wanda told me!”

“Wanda!”

“I think I feel sick…” Their voices kept getting louder, every single one of them talking over the others, demanding to be heard. What she wouldn’t have given to have passed out and to not be in this shouting chamber-

“Alright!” Dr. Strange shouted, his loud voice putting an end to the arguments. “If you donated 23 chromosomes to the 46 this child has, then _you_ get to come in. That’s final. Everybody else… just _please_ be quiet, God, you’re giving me a headache. Sharon, can you get me some aspirin?”

“Already on it, boss.” The nurse shuffled past them and down the hallway. Wanda had a flare of jealousy of the way she got to so escape so easily.

“Wanda, Vision.” The doctor was saying. “Is that your real name?”

“No, my real name is Vincent.”

“Huh, I kinda like Vision better. You mind if that’s what I call you?” asked Dr. Strange.

“Of course, go ahead.” Wanda hadn’t noticed, but Vince was standing next to her now. The rest had faded to the background, and for some reason, the anxiety Wanda was feeling earlier had faded, now that he was here.

“Alright, you guys ready to go in?”

_ 

 


	7. Episode 4: part 2

_

**I know what you’re thinking, what happened to Karen? What about that guy that got murdered? Weren’t Jessica Jones and Matt Murdock teaming up? Have they found anything yet? Well the explanation lies at** **_The Maria,_ ** **where our cast of staff is currently, very bored (as previously mentioned).**

The wi-fi at  _The Maria_ sucked. Like hardcore sucked. Like you’re stuck in a laundry mat in Hell’s Kitchen sucked. Carol, when on the clock, was never usually bored enough to play games on her phone. Only she’d refreshed her Instagram fifteen times in the last three minutes and nothing had changed (she tried Tumblr, but the service in here was so bad that that terrible app was not going to open, ever), so she’d pulled up Bubble Witch 3 and tried to beat the latest level without using any power ups that weren’t free of charge.

“No, it’s like this.” Quill was saying. Carol was lying on the bar, having taken her makeshift bed from under the bar to on top of it. Around her, Quill trying  _again_ to teach Gamora how to dance. Betsy, Mantis, Drax and Peter either watching or were their phones with false hopes the wi-fi would work long enough to entertain them. “You have to move your feet, Gamora-”

“I am moving my feet, Quill!”

“Scooting over like two inches is not moving!”

“Well, whenever I  _do_ move my feet, you yell and complain about me stepping on your feet!”  Gamora rolled her eyes. Carol looked up. Nope, no progress there.

“Because you step on my feet Gamora!”

“Ugh guys,” Carol whined half heartedly. “Just get a room already.”

“Or a closet.” Betsy snickered.

Carol let out a loud laugh. “Just make sure no one catches you this time.”

“Hey!” Quill let go of Gamora like she was on fire, sending her stumbling back. “I thought you guys promised you would stop talking about that!”

“And I thought you guys would stop boning in a closet at work but looks like one of us was wrong.” Carol propped herself up on her pillow.

“Oh so that’s what they were doing in the closet!” Peter shouted, a look of realization on his baby face.

“You didn’t know that?” Drax leaned forward until he was in Peter’s space. “Even Mantis knew that!”

“And now I also know what boning means!” Mantis said eagerly, also leaning forward until she was in Peter’s space. Carol watched as the poor kid looked between the two with nowhere to escape, and she wondered to herself just how Mantis had lived with Gamora, Quill, and those other hooligans all in one flat and not know the term bone. She got that Mantis was isolated most her life, but how could she not know with Quill and Gamora probably going at it every night like catholic rabbits?

“I uh,” Peter stuttered, “I just thought they were um, you know, making out. But like, super heavily.”

Gamora put her hands on her hips and sighed. “You are so naive, Peter.”

**Yeah but he’s so adorable that I’d just let him get away with anything.**

“Can we  _please_ stop talking about this?” begged Quill.

“I mean we can,” Besty shrugged, “but I think Danvers is tweeting about it.”

“Like maybe their shirts were off, and um,” Peter was still going and Mantis and Drax were still in his space, “and that Quill was probably going to- um, going to take off… her, you know, her bra-” Peter’s voice broke and Carol sat up.

“Okay, Peter, enough. You don’t have to prove to anyone you know what sex is.”

“Oh, thank God!” Peter let out a sigh of relief before going back to his phone. Slowly, Mantis and Drax inched away from the sixteen year old dishwasher.

“Danvers, you’re not tweeting this are you?” asked Gamora, her eyebrows raised in an expression usually reserved for Rocket.

“I mean I would be but the wi-fi in here sucks!” moaned Carol. “Stupid wi-fi! Stupid hotel! Stupid boring-ass job!”

“Carol, what did we say about cursing in front of Mantis  _and_ Peter?” Betsy looked at her expectantly and Carol was tempted to flick her in the nose.

“What word am I not supposed to say again? Ass or stupid?”

“Ass.” Peter said.

“Stupid” said Mantis.

“I agree with Danvers.” Drax stated, picking fluff off his janitor’s uniform. “Nothing interesting ever happens here.”

“Are you guys being serious?” asked Quill. His eyes were wide and he was flailing his arms everywhere again.

“Well... no one comes here anymore.” Mantis pointed out.

Quill, though, had a protest for that too. Carol sighed and went back to Bubble Witch 3. “That’s not true. People are coming back! Remember that guy with a weird mustache? And foot infection? He told us all about it when he was down here about an hour ago.”

“Ugh, he was gross.” Peter made a face.

“Like me?” Mantis asked. A couple of weeks ago, Drax outright called Mantis gross. Mantis, being Mantis, thought it was a compliment, no matter how many times Gamora explained that she  _wasn’t_ gross and that someone telling you you were gross was not actually something you wanted said to you. But now Mantis brought it up everytime she could. Maybe for clarification, Carol wondered?

“Not like you- for the last time, you’re not gross.” Gamora sat down on the bar stool next to her. Mantis put her hands up, gesturing at Gamora’s head, and after a sigh the other woman relented, letting the housekeeper start to braid her long hair. “You know I’m starting to wonder why Mr. Anderson hasn’t begun firing us. How much longer can they afford to keep us on the clock when there’s barely anything to do?”

“C’mon Gamora, it’s Stark we’re talking about, it’s gonna be another century before they start running out of money.” Quill pointed out. Gamora sent him a look. “Okay, fine, but I don’t think we should worry about getting laid off.”

Carol rolled her eyes. “You say that about everything.”

“Well, I think it’s true, in this case! Look-” Quill looked like he was about to go off, and honestly Carol was interested in what he was about to say- okay, sort of interested- when they were all interrupted by the head waitress Raven walking in on them in the restaurant, behind her a small petite young woman with... green hair? Narrowing her eyes, Carol took in the girl.  _Who’s this? And why does she look kind of familiar?_

“Hey guys, we got a new hire.” Raven said and gestured to the green haired girl.

“See,” Quill pointed at waitress and the new girl. “They’re so confident people are gonna come back that they’re hiring more people. We’re not going to lose our jobs, guys!”

Raven shook her head, her face stoic as ever. Carol wondered if Raven had ever smiled in her entire life. “Oh no, Mr. Anderson asked me to hire someone to replace Karen.”

“What?” was the collective outroar from everyone. Carol burst upright from the bar top, practically whacking Peter and Mantis on their heads, she was moving so fast.

“Yeah.” noded Raven. “You guys really didn’t think they’d let her stick around did you?” Dead silence. “Anyways, this is Lorna Dane.”

**Lorna… Lorna… Where do I know that name from?**

The young woman waved, and with that being a satisfactory introduction, Raven walked away.  _Smart,_ Carol thought to herself,  _walk away quickly before any of us can ask questions._

“I can’t believe they’re replacing Karen.”

“She didn’t do it!” Betsy slammed her fist on the obsidian stone of the bar top.

“The cops don’t have evidence that she didn’t do it.” muttered Mantis, lowering her head in shame, or maybe sadness. She did always have an uncanny ability to know the truth before others did.

“They don’t have any evidence she  _did_ do it.” Gamora reminded them. This calmed everyone down, at least for a second.  Then the green haired girl reminded her that she was still standing there.

“Hello? Is anybody going to say anything to me?” she crossed her arms, and stuck her hip out to the side.  _Okay,_ Carol thought,  _so this one’s kind of a brat, guess she’ll fit in here. God, where do I know her from?_

“We forgot you were standing there.” Drax told her, his voice dry.

“I noticed. So are you guys going to show me how to do stuff around here or what?”

“That’s the thing,” Carol started, swinging her legs over the bar, again hitting Peter and Mantis. “There’s kind of nothing to do.”

“Oh?” the girl, Lorna, raised an eyebrow, that Carol noticed was also green. It almost reminded Carol of Wanda’s obsession with red. “So you guys just like, do nothing?”

Carol and the others looked at each other. “For now, I guess.”

“Until our boss starts replacing us.” Betsy hissed.

“Why?” asked Lorna.

“It’s kind of a long story.” Quill answered.

“I got time, since there’s nothing to do.” Lorna shrugged and took a seat on the floor, folding her legs under her skirt. That’s when Carol noticed she was already in a waitress’ uniform, the red blouse and black skirt clashing with her green hair like a evil Christmas elf had vomited on her. Was she already on the clock?

“Okay, so…” Quill took a deep breath and began telling Lorna what happened to Karen, how she’d found the dead body in one of the rooms and been arrested, how Elektra hired these lawyers who hired a private investigator under the assumption that Elektra, a waitress being paid minimum wage and tips, could pay her, and how the cops were looking for evidence of who really did it, and he told her about the links with that strange Nazi cult too. At that point Gamora jumped in to take over the rest of the story, supplemented every now and then by Carol or one of the other’s, telling her how only recently had the P.I. found something. At that point Peter Parker reminded everyone that they were trying to locate the victim’s (“Don’t call him a dead guy, Peter Quill.” Well it’s what he is!” “It’s rude, is what it is!”) cell phone so they could try to place when he ordered the food that took Karen up there in the first place. Except that they hadn’t found the cellphone just yet, only got word of a place it might be, so Karen was probably going to court soon and the odds of her being convicted climbed higher and higher everyday.

“Meanwhile we haven’t really had people checking into the hotel because I don’t know, bad publicity? Oh and the fact they probably don’t want to get stabbed in their sleep,” finished Quill. They all looked at the new girl with expectant eyes. She hadn’t said anything the whole time they talked.

And now? Now she just yawned. “That’s it?”

“That’s it?” Quill waved his hands around again. “A man just got murdered and there’s a woman about wrongfully convicted of a crime she didn’t commit and you’re just like, that’s it?”

“That’s what you guys call interesting around here? This job might be more boring than I thought.” Lorna let out a long sigh of obvious boredom.

“Kind of, I guess,” muttered Peter. Gamora and Carol exchanged a look, telling Carol that both she and her were trying to think of menial jobs they could go make Lorna do to get her to go away.

But Lorna Dane was not done with her questions. “Don’t you guys think it’s creepy?”

“What’s creepy?” Gamora asked without looking, instead reaching around to the back of her head trying to figure out how many braids Mantis had put in her hair.

“Some person came here with no belongings, which is  _super_ weird to begin with, checked in, and was stabbed to death in your hotel. They haven’t caught the guy who did it-”

“We knew that.” Drax crossed his arms.

“What I’m saying  _is_ ,” Lorna continued, “what if they come back? What if they’re not done?”

That certainly sent a chill through the air. All of sudden they were hyper aware of each other, exchanging nervous glances and worried expressions. None of them had really thought about it, because it was on a certain level, terrifying. You’re working one minute, and the next you might be bleeding out. But they couldn’t stand around constantly looking behind their backs; they had a job to do, money to earn, they needed to put food on the table and keep roofs over their heads. Why else would they have just continued as if everything was normal?

“Ha! This bitch empty! Yeet!” Peter Parker suddenly yelled, snapping the others out of their Lorna-induced stupor, when the boy looked up from his phone. “Oh, sorry-” he stuttered when he realized they were all watching him, “my friend just sent me this funny meme, I swear it wasn’t about the dead guy in our hotel.”

“Did you just say ‘this bitch empty’?” Drax repeated each word like it was from a foreign language.

“Wow, you said a bad word! Wade’s gonna be proud.” Betsy punched Peter in the shoulder and he winced.

“What the hell does “yeet” mean?” Quill kept looking around for an explanation, as if this group of millennials-

**Does Drax count as a millennial? I always thought he was in his forties.**

-could explain this Gen Z nonsense.

“Oooh!” Mantis jabbed Peter in the stomach. “Are you texting that girl again?”  

Gamora perked up. “What girl? Is it MJ again?”

“Oh, no.” Peter shook his head. “It’s another girl. She’s actually a foreign exchange student from Africa, it’s crazy!”

“Where in Africa?” asked Carol.

“This really like small country, I don’t think you guys would know it.” Peter said without looking up from the reply he was texting. Carol looked at the screen to find Peter writing “I WON’T HESITATE BITCH!!!!!!” followed by several randomly chosen emojis. How the hell was  _that_ related to “this bitch empty, yeet?”

“I’m confused.” Drax narrowed his eyes. “I thought you had a crush on MJ.”

Everyone, except Lorna who was looking at her painted nails and looking bored again, nodded in agreement. They all remembered the conversation where they had to beg who Peter liked out of him (that’s how bored they were, they were literally asking high schoolers about their dating lives) because Drax did not understand why it was called a crush, and when they explained it to him, he told them all “No one could ever have a crush on me. I am too strong to be crushed.”

“Even though you are not strong enough to crush anyone with your weak arms,” continued Drax. Carol rolled her eyes.

“Do you not like MJ anymore? But you said that ‘she’s the coolest person I’ve ever met,’” said Mantis, bending her fingers to show quotation marks.

“Well,” Peter cocked his head. “I’ve been hanging out with the girl from Africa a lot because she’s like super cool, but I still really like MJ. Ned thinks I should ask her out, and this other girl thinks I should too.”

“I think your friends are right Peter, you should follow your heart. Maybe you could bring her to dinner one night here.”

“Thanks Gamora, but I don’t think bringing her to the murder hotel would go over very well with her. ‘Hey MJ wanna go out with me to the place where they found a dead guy?’’

**You guys are in New York. How is the place where they found a dead guy not every place?**

“Fair enough.” Betsy nodded.

“Plus Wade’s here.” Peter realized all of a sudden. “With my luck he’d be working that night and he’d like, bring us a plate of condoms for an appetizer.”

They all collectively rolled their eyes at that suggestion, knowing full well that Wade Wilson would do  _exactly_ that. Lorna then yawned  _again,_ this time making an ever bigger show out of it.  _We get it, we’re boring,_ Carol wanted to say, but everytime she looked at the girl she started racking her brain for where she knew her from.

“So murder victims and elementary school dating? That’s what you guys talk about around here?” Lorna asked with a cocky grin on her face. God, even her lipstick was green. Or maybe it was black? Carol couldn’t tell in the restaurant's dim gold lighting. Where the hell was Wanda, she’d love this girl.

“Hey!” shouted Peter, “We’re like the same age!”

Lorna stood back up and put her hands on her hips. But she wasn’t very tall and therefore wasn’t very intimidating. “Uh, I’m twenty-one!”

“That sounds fake but okay.” laughed Quill.

Betsy flung herself around. “Did you just quote a meme, Quill?”

“That one’s kind of old,” Peter Parker said, knocking the pleased look right off the bartender’s face. “It doesn’t count.”

“God damn it!”

“I know something interesting we could tell the new girl!” Mantis perked up, yanking on Gamora’s hair in her newfound excitement, causing the other woman to curse loudly. “What about Wanda?”

Lorna, who had resumed picking at her nail polish, looked up, her face suddenly intrigued. Carol narrowed her eyes. “Wanda, what about Wanda?”

“She’s one of our waitresses.” Quill started, but didn’t get very far.

“What did she murder someone too?”

“No, she got pregnant.” Peter Parker said. He’d gone back to texting completely random quotes with very little context to his foreign exchange not-girlfriend.

“Oh.” Lorna rolled her eyes for like the fifteenth time.

“Hey it’s more than that,” protested Quill, “she got accidently impregnated with another man’s-”

“Are you sure we should just be telling this story to everyone?” Carol interrupted before sending Quill a look. As much as she wanted to prove that working at  _The Maria_ wasn’t as boring as watching paint dry (and if even if it was Carol wasn’t about to give this stuck-up girl the satisfaction) something about Lorna felt… off. For the life of her, Carol couldn’t figure out where in the  _hell_ she’d seen her, and then there was another part of her telling her she just shouldn’t trust her (and that she should never trust people with black/green lipstick). Tonight was an kind of a weird night to show up, and why work here? Why not Hot Topic? Why was she so unperturbed by what happened to Karen? And why she did wake up to the conversation when Mantis brought up Wanda of all people?

“Whatever Danvers, you’re the one who blabbed about it to all of us in the first place!” Quill just rolled his eyes and continued because Carol couldn’t really argue with that. “Maximoff - sorry, Wanda - she got impregnated with another man’s sperm!”

“That’s weird…” Again, a strange look flashed in Lorna’s eyes and Carol sat up straighter.

“It was a complete medical mixup,” Betsy picked up the story, “She went to the gynecologist for like a pap smear, and ta-da, totally walked out knocked up.”

“So like, who’s the dad?” Lorna asked.

**Oh about that… Wanda hasn’t exactly told anyone at the hotel Vince is the father, and who can blame her? Between Peter Quill and Wade Wilson, I sure couldn’t handle everyone’s weird comments around here…**

Everyone turned to look at Carol, and she shifted uncomfortably. “What are you looking at me for?”

“You were the one Wanda told about the pregnancy, not us.” Gamora said.

“That doesn’t mean I know who the dad is.”

Peter Parker smirked. “What do you mean by that, like I know who the father is but I’m not gonna tell or you really don’t know-”

“I really don’t know.” Carol threw her hands up in the air. “And even if I did, why would I tell you Wanda’s secret?”

“Because you told us Wanda’s other secret,” Drax pointed out.

“Ugh.”

“Why doesn’t she just tell you guys?” Lorna wondered out loud, suddenly very interested in the conversation. “Does she not trust you or something?”

Betsy shrugged. “I guess she just doesn’t want to. Can’t blame her, we do kinda gossip around here.”

“That’s for sure.” Quill nodded. “But then again, the dude’s probably just a stranger. Like a donor or something.”

At this point, Gamora turned around to face Quill and Carol, leaning over the bar so Mantis could still have access to her hair, and pointed out that most sperm donors don’t care about knowing their progeny and because of that even Wanda wouldn’t know the identity of the father.

“What if it’s not a donor?” wondered Peter.

“Yeah, and how do you so much about sperm donors, Gamora?” Quill asked her, but she only shrugged. It was her turn to braid Mantis’ hair, and Carol wanted to laugh at the scene taking place before her. When they first started, Gamora had been an ice cold bitch. Now that Quill and Mantis and the others were in her life, she’d become a complete softy.

“What if he’s like, married?” Lorna bit her lip, making Carol want to scream  _WHERE DO I KNOW YOU FROM_ at her with absolutely no warning or context.

“What if he is super old?” Drax stroked his chin.

“That would be crazy!” Mantis laughed and Drax laughed with her. “You know what else would be crazy? What if we actually knew this man?”

“Nah, that’s not possible.” Quill shook his head. “That’d be like, something from a TV show!” he paused then. “But weird things have been happening lately... So maybe it  _is_ someone we know!”

“Oh really, Quill? I’ll bet you twenty dollars we do not know this man, because  _he could literally be anybody on earth._ ” Betsy reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled a couple bills from her wallet, slamming them on the bar.

“Okay, I’ll bet twenty  _one_ dollars that we do know this man, because irony is a bitch.” Quill did as Betsy did and put even more bills on the bar counter.

“Wow, slow down, Peter Quill.” Gamora told him, a warning in her voice.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to waste all the allowance money Gamora gave you,” teased Betsy, and Carol let out a laugh.

“Oh no, he already spent that on vintage toys for his room.” Gamora was still busy braiding Mantis’ hair.

“Yeah, I already spent it on- hey, why would you tell them that?” whined Quill.

Peter looked up from his phone all of a sudden. “Wait! What if we did know this guy, but not like personally? Oh, what if he’s famous!”

Somebody gasped, and out of the corner of her eye, Carol saw Lorna roll hers. “What if it is a Property Brother?”

“A Property Brother, what- Drax, you watch HTGV?” Carol asked, confused as hell. She thought he’d watch, well, she didn’t know really... maybe wrestling?

“Of course,” the man nodded, “Rocket and I like to watch so we can make fun of the people and their annoying and petty needs.”

**Ain’t that the truth. Always gotta have space to entertain and that Open Floor Plan™!**

“I want to bet money as well.” Drax reached in one of his many pockets and pulled out his wallet. “I will bet a hundred dollars that the father is a Property Brother.”

“A hundred  _freaking_ dollars?” Quill looked like his head was about to explode as he eyed the growing pile of money. “Where did you get all that money from?”

“I found it.”

“You  _found_ it? Where the  _hell_ did you find a hundred flippin’ dollars?”

“Wouldn’t it be crazy,” Mantis laughed again, breaking up Drax’s and Quill’s conversation, “if we did know this man, but he was not famous! That would be crazy, right!”

“You mean like if he worked here or something?” Peter asked. Mantis’ only answer was to laugh wildly some more.

“Well it is not me.” Drax shook his head.

“Of course it’s not you you’re too busy finding gobs of money in  _random places!”_ Quill practically yelled.

“That leaves Hank, Scott, Wade, Kurt, a few others, but they’re all in college and I don’t why they’d have fertility treatments. Or maybe Quill was right and it is a donor-”

“Quill was right?”

“-but why would they donate their sperm?” Betsy finished.

**I dunno, maybe to pay off student loans. At this point you have to like sell both your kidneys to pay it all off. I’m thinking about selling my gallbladder.**

“You guys,” Carol stopped them, something dawning on her, “what if it’s our boss?”

Peter Quill and Gamora burst into laughter, and Drax and Mantis followed suit. Lorna was rolling her eyes again. Peter Parker and Betsy exchanged doubtful looks. “Danvers, that seems pretty far fetched.” Betsy sighed, wiping tears from her eyes.

**Can you live without a gallbladder?**

“You guys just let Drax bet a hundred bucks on it being one of the Property Brothers but the chance that it’s Vincent Anderson seems far fetched to you?” Carol asked them. “Think about it you guys, Mr. Anderson had cancer, remember? And he went through chemo! Sometimes that can make you infertile, so that explains why his sperm would be at Dr. Cho’s clinic. Plus, Maximoff’s been looking for him everywhere-”

“That’s true,” Quill nodded, “she came by last week like three times asking for him.”

“I thought it was just because she was crushing on him-”

“Crushing on him?” asked Lorna, suddenly interested again.

“Wanda could not crush anybody with her weak arms either.” added Drax, like it somehow mattered to what they were talking about.

“C’mon guys stop interrupting me! I think she could’ve been looking for him to talk about the kid? I mean why else wouldn’t she tell me?”

“It does still seem pretty out there.” Gamora said.

“Yeah, maybe she just didn’t want to tell you because it’s a private thing?” Peter Parker suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Whatever you say guys,” Carol shook her head, but then she took out her wallet too. “Thirty bucks the father of that kid is Vince Anderson!”

There were some murmurs of protest, but mostly after her brave proclamation -Carol was onto something, she knew it and if Wanda didn’t tell her, then fine, she could figure it out herself- the betting and the conversation around Wanda died down. Betsy and Quill started to talk again about Karen’s upcoming trial, and Gamora would interrupt every now and then. Lorna sat back down and pulled out her cell phone and was texting someone just like Peter was. Deciding to check her phone and see if the wi-fi was any better now, Carol laid back down on the bar.

It wasn’t.

 

_

 

**Okay, we’ll check back in on** **_The Maria_ ** **later, but for now, let’s get back to what you’ve all been waiting two years for- actual interaction between the two main characters! Let’s see how things are in that doctor’s appointment, shall we?**

They’d barely begun and things were already awkward.

Dr. Strange had escorted them into a small room and had asked Wanda sit on the table. Vince took a seat in one of the chairs lining the wall, and neither of them made eye contact or spoke. Looking around the tiny space, Wanda noticed there was no computer, odd for a doctor’s office, but maybe not so for this one. There was, however, a machine next to where Wanda was sitting that was whirring. Sharon came in about a minute later with a handful of aspirin and bottle of water (“You don’t want to drink the tap water here,’ she told them, making a face) and explained to her boss that she’d taken the rest of Wanda and Vince’s crowd back into the lobby. “Except for Steve and what his name, oh right! Tony. Yeah, Tony, they’re still out in the hallway. I think they were arguing.” Sharon pointed and Wanda and Vince leaned until they could see out the tiny window on the door.

Wanda’s face flushed with embarrassment at the sight of Steve. How was it that she was born with only one overprotective sibling and ended up with three more? Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Vince putting his head in his hands. Was he embarrassed as well? Or was she just boring him already?

“Let’s get straight to it,” said Dr. Strange, sitting down on a stood by the table Wanda sat on and placed his clipboard on the counter next to him. “Wanda I just have a few questions for you, just basic stuff. This shouldn’t take long.”

She nodded and swallowed. “Okay.”

“Is this your first pregnancy?” Dr. Strange cleared his throat and asked.

“Yes.” Wanda chose then to look up at Vince, an unlucky moment, he was looking at her too. It only lasted a second, her green eyes catching his piercing blue ones, before they were both looking at the floor.

After writing something down, Dr. Strange elaborated. “So you’ve had no miscarriages before-”

“No.” Wanda shook her head.

“Are you a smoker?”

“No.”

“Well that’s one conversation we don’t have to have. How much alcohol would you say you consume in a week?”

“None.”

“Okay,” the doctor continued down his list for a few minutes, asking questions about her daily lifestyle. Wanda could see it in his eyes that he didn’t quite believe her answer about drinking, and she could see that neither did Vince, until he asked something that made her heart stop.

“Are you on any medication currently?”

_Breathe, Wanda, breathe. They- he was bound to find out eventually._

_And if he sees me differently?_ She asked herself.  _Then he’s not worthy._ “I’m taking sertraline.” Wanda whispered.

“Zoloft. I assume for depression?” Wanda nodded. She refused to look up and face either of them, suddenly wishing she’d let Pietro or Laura come instead, or maybe even Cassie to hold her hand. “Is there a history of mental illness in the family?” Strange asked.

It was a simple question, but Wanda knew the answer was complicated. Memories of her birth father’s acute mood swings from when she was ten years old flooded her conscience with the sounds of him slamming doors, the echoes of his harsh voice off the wooden floors whenever he yelled at Pietro, the times she approached him only to get no emotional reaction, even in his face… “Yes.” She said finally.

Vince was looking at her, Wanda knew that much. She couldn’t blame him, this must’ve explained a lot of her behavior, especially back in high school. She looked up, expecting to see his brows furrowed in anger - how could she keep something like this from him when it could affect the child? But when she looked at him, his face was soft, his eyes understanding. There was no look of judgement. No sign of rejection.

Tears pricked her eyes and she turned away to face the white wall and humming machine.  _Not now, okay Little Fetus?_

_“_ Zoloft is generally safe during pregnancy, but let us know if you think it might be causing any problems.” Dr. Strange informed her, snapping Vince and Wanda out whatever had them entranced-

**Probably each other.**

-in that moment. “That also goes for anything during the next coming months, okay? Tell us if you think anything’s wrong, we won’t fight you on it. You know your body better than anyone and this is a very stressful time for most people.”

Wanda nodded once more. “I understand.”

“Just one more thing before I bring Nurse Sharon back here,” he looked down at his clipboard, “you’re going to need an appointment once a month until you’re eight months along and at that time you’ll need two, and during your nine month you will need-”

“One each week.” she finished for him.

He cocked his head to the side. “Oh so you’ve done some research, good for you, keep it up. Anyways as I was saying, you’ll need to schedule an appointment with Sharon on your way out.”

“Of course.” Vince said before Wanda could. She glanced at him, biting her tongue. Why did all of a sudden he want to act like they were a team?

“And please don’t bring so many people next time, it really is a fire hazard.” Dr. Strange sighed before standing up. “It was nice to meet you, Wanda Maximoff, and you too Vision.” With that, he excused himself, stranding them with no possible means of rescue in a severely awkward silence.

“Is that all?” Vince whispered after a few minutes of staring at the door and waiting for it to open and save them from talking to each other.

“Well,” Wanda was tempted to roll her eyes. It was hard to forget her anger at him that had held up for several weeks as he was the only other person in the room with her. “the nurse will probably come in soon so we can listen for the heartbeat. Sorry if you were looking for a quick exit.”

Confusion overtook his gentle expression. “Oh no, I meant that Dr. Strange’s inquiry was rather short. In all the research I’ve done and in everything I have read, they made it seem like the first appointment would be much more in depth.”

“You’ve been reading?” Wanda asked, trying to mask the surprise- and happiness (because now was not the time!)- in her voice.

Vince nodded. “Yes, quite frequently as of late.”

“What have you been reading? she asked him.

“Primarily volumes  _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ and a few others, of course.”

Wanda pursed her lips, swallowing her laughter.“ _You’re_ reading  _What to Expect?_ ”

“Oh, you are reading it too? Of course you are,” he looked down for a minute out of embarrassment, “it is more common for mothers to read it. I do have a question regarding it: Do you find the writing to be as vague as I do?”

Wanda couldn’t help but laugh. There were so many moments with him that reminded her of high school; it was like some of him had changed but also some of him hadn’t. In some ways he was still the exact Vince she’d had a silly crush on. “Yes, it was kinda vague, but the other books help fill in the holes- most of the time.”

**For the record,** **_What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ ** **is vague as hell.**

“You’re supplementing your reading?” he looked at her, his expression warm and relaxed.

“Vince, you sound like a college professor,” Wanda giggled, because that was all she could see when she looked at him. (Was it weird that she was kind of into it, though?) However she could see she embarrassed him a little. “Yes, I am, supplementing. Pietro bought me all these books from Babies R Us instead of Amazon like a normal person.”

“He was probably feeling a little lost. It is a rather hard maze to navigate.” Vince said, and it dawned on Wanda that that was exactly what Vince was feeling, too. She bit her lip, tasting her lipstick.  _You should probably be more considerate…also re-apply soon your lips are dry._

“He, uh, he was at Babies R Us for hours” Wanda told him, wanting to dissipate the awkwardness she’d created, “wandering around and just reading the books. He read like four or five of them,” she laughed, “and he never reads, ever!”

“That does seem in character for what I know of your brother, though.” Vince told her.

“To stand there forever in a children’s store reading  _books_? The longest thing I’ve ever seen my twin read is the nutrition label of a sports drink.” Wanda threw her hands up. “For him to do that is  _so_ out of character.”

But Vince just shook his head and smiled at her. “Not that I mean. I was referring to buying the books for you, for going out of his way like that. He really cares for you Wanda. You are lucky to have a brother- to have someone like that.”

Something in Wanda was melting. For weeks now Wanda held to her anger as if it was keeping her afloat;  she’d lived most of her life this way. Be angry. Be sad. But just  _do not_ open up, and it was working. Until Vince started  _trying._ He almost didn’t have to. Her walls came crumbling down with only his whispers. Just looking in his blue eyes and Wanda wanted to trust again- trust in love, trust in him.  _You can’t._ A voice in the back her head warned her. She’d been burned so many times before.

_But what if this time I could?_ She wondered.

Vince looked like he needed a friend, and after seeing the group he brought, Wanda teased the idea of letting him lean on her. They could be teammates, friends. They were, after all, stranded in a never ending maze with only each other to guide them out.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak, to say something,  _anything,_ to make him feel better when she was interrupted by the door opening.

**Oh come on! We were finally getting somewhere!**

“Hello again,” Sharon stepped through the door, “did everything go okay with Dr. Strange?”

“Yes, I think-” Vince paused and looked at Wanda, and this time she gave him a tiny smile, “We think it went well.”

“Cool! Now that all the boring stuff is over we get to the fun part!” Sharon stepped over to the table and whispered in Wanda’s ear, “Also the awkward part. Steve told me that you aren’t exactly in a relationship and I didn’t know if you wanted him in the room when I, you know-”

Sighing, Wanda nodded her head, “It’s fine.”

Asking again for reaffirmation, Sharon looked at her with wide eyes that seemed to say  _“If you need me to get you out of this just ask.”_ But Wanda was okay. There was a part of her that was beginning to accept the true reality of the situation they were living, and that it was going to be an awkward journey. She reminded herself that Vince was feeling as awkward as she was and that someday, this moment might matter to someone, maybe even her.

The next few moments passed in an anxious blur. Sharon asked Wanda to strip (thank  _God_ she was wearing a skirt and not a dress like she usually wore) and then lay down on the table. Vince turned away, like she knew he would. He didn’t say anything (another thank you to whatever deity decided it would be funny to do this to her that Vince didn’t make it more awkward by talking). Then Sharon, whistling, Wanda thought to alleviate the weird vibe of the room, inserted the microphone, a small silver tube into Wanda before covering her with a sheet. “You can turn around now.” Wanda told Vince when Sharon began to fiddle with the machine.

He did, but it was almost as if he didn’t want to look at her, finding places on the ceiling to occupy . “Vince, you can look at me, you know?”

“I,” Vince stuttered, “I didn’t know if it would be polite.”

“I am pregnant with a baby neither of us expected.” Wanda almost laughed, “you don’t have to worry about being polite right now.”  _Please look at me._

_“_ Okay there’s gonna be something on the little screen here,” Sharon pointed a small monitor on the machine, “it will just be a visualization of the frequency. We don’t have equipment fancy enough to see the little guy- or gal- yet, so…”

Vince did look up, but to see the screen. Wanda sighed, turning and angling her head so she could see as well. Her own heart was beating so fast. How would this change things for her? Would… would this make it real? A solidified human being growing inside her, not just a figment of her overactive imagination ? Sharon was still humming and Vince had his arms crossed waiting, his face hopeful. Pressing her clammy hands to the surface of the table, Wanda told herself to breathe.  _One… two... three… four… five…_

_Ba-bum._

“There it is!” said Sharon. Vince gasped just loud enough for Wanda to hear. Her own breath caught.

_Ba-bum-ba-bum-ba-bum-_

“It’s a little fast right now because-”

“A baby’s heart is beating at 110 beats per minute.” Vince finished for Sharon. Wanda tilted her head back to Vince, and this time his blue eyes were on her, not the screen.

“Where did you read that?” Wanda asked him.

His smile was warm, and the butterflies in her stomach were making a comeback. “The website for  _What to Expect_ is far more in depth than its counterpart.”

 Wanda couldn’t help but laugh, and laugh really hard. This time when she smiled at him, it was real.

_Ba-bum-ba-bum-ba-bum-ba-bum._ His eyes staring into hers.

Maybe this moment mattered right now.

“Hmm, that’s a little weird…” said Sharon. Wanda and Vince looked up to find her studying the machine.

“What is?” Vince asked in a strained voice. Anxiety flared within her and without thinking, she reached out and grabbed his hand.

_Is something wrong? What’s wrong? Nothing can be wrong, I’ve done everything right!_ Sharon focused on the machine still.  _Please be okay Little Fetus, Vince needs you- I need you to be okay-_

“Do you guys think the heart beat is kind of, I dunno, echoing?” Sharon narrowed her eyes and checked the screen.

Wanda took a shuddery breath.  _It’s just echoing… wait! What if that’s bad what if it means-_

_“_ I hear it.” Vince said.

_Ba-bum...pah. Ba-bum...pah._ It was echoing. Wanda thought back through every book she’d read, every article she’d scrolled through, all the information she’d absorbed in the last six weeks. Echoing in a heartbeat screening, echoing in a heartbeat screening. She looked to Vince, who was still holding her hand tight, his face nervous. Did he know what it meant? She wished he would say something.

_Ba-bum...pah. Ba-bum...pah._ “Okay, you know what,” Sharon spoke up. Wanda listened to her voice carefully for a disappointing tone. “I’m just going to get Dr. Strange, to be safe.” The nurse powered down the machine and made to leave from the small room. Again Wanda’s breath caught.  _Okay, so she doesn’t know what’s wrong, maybe that’s a good thing. Or maybe she does know and isn’t telling us, just dragging it out like this to avoid giving bad news._

_Why do even care? You were the one that didn’t want to be pregnant!_ Another angry voice inside her shadow and she squeezed Vince’s hand so hard she probably bruised it.

The door slammed shut as Sharon walked out and Wanda and Vince jumped. That was the exact moment when the both became aware they were still clutching each other’s hands and just like that, they flew apart, Vince almost gliding two feet back.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t be, it’s me who should be sorry-”

“If I overstepped-”

“I was the one who did, don’t be sorry-”

“Are you positive, Wanda-”

“Yes, Vince it’s okay.”

Silence overtook the room-

**I’d say** **_a pregnant silence,_ ** **ha ha, but then you’d probably want to throw something at me.**

-and they wouldn’t meet each other’s eyes. Wanda sighed and let hers close.  _God, this is awful. First it was awkward, and now it’s awkward and painful and I’m still half-naked and he won’t look at me and on top of everything now he feels guilty just for holding my hand!_ Taking a deep breath, Wanda began to count in her head, trying to think of ways she could fix this deteriorating situation.  

But Vince spoke first. “I do owe you an apology.”

“What?” Wanda’s eyes flew open. “I don’t know what you- you don’t owe me an apology.”

“I do. I have not been very attentive towards-” Vince paused. Wanda wondered if he was going to say her name. (Was that what she was hoping for?) “-towards more important matters. I’ve been consumed by Daniel Fisher’s murder and I let it get in the way of focusing on the pregnancy.”

For the next few moments she let his words sink in. She’d cried over and over, day after day, wallowing in her loneliness, her hormones heightened, wondering why he wouldn’t even speak to her, and now here he was apologizing. She didn’t know what to make of it. Whenever the men in Wanda’s life wronged her, rarely did they say sorry.

“It’s...it’s okay.” Wanda said after a few tense seconds.

Vince’s shoulders relaxed. In her moment of being torn, she hadn’t noticed the nervous look on his face.

“It is? I thought you would be much angrier after…” he trailed off.

After I yelled at you by your office and in the lobby?” Wanda smiled at him and he began to stutter a reply that that wasn’t what he meant and that he didn’t think she had actually yelled at him but Wanda shook her head. “You can be honest with me Vince. I think we both deserve that.”

 He ran a hand through his hair. “Alright. I will be honest from here on out.”

“I like this. Maybe we should talk more. ” The second the words were out her mouth she regretted them, and slapped a hand over her mouth.

**Damn, Wanda I didn’t know you were so bad at flirting.**

“About the baby I mean.” Wanda added quickly. Vince, whose eyes had widened at her comment, only stared at her. Then after a few seconds, he nodded.

“Of course. I promise I’ll be easier to find in the future.” he told her. His voice was sincere.  

Wanda bit her lip, inwardly chastising herself.  _Don’t be so quick to throw yourself at him, you idiot!_ “Can I ask you something?” she said after a minute. “Since we’re being honest with each other now?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Why does Tony- why do your friends call you Vision?” she tilted her head as she looked at him.

By the look on his face, Wanda could see she’d taken him off guard, and for a brief second she entertained the idea of kicking herself. Why did she always succeed in making him uncomfortable? “My parents called me that when I was young, and then my brother…” Vince paused to take a deep breath, “when my brother and I went to university he continued to call me that and slowly everyone picked up on it. University is where I first met Tony and James.”

“What does it mean?” asked Wanda. She almost forgot he had a brother.

“I’ve never been quite sure,” he answered. Wanda could tell then that he’d put a lot of thought into this one thing. “My brother used to say my parents believed me to be a vision of the future to come.”

That was  _not_ the answer she’d been expecting.

**Were you expecting the answer to be because he’s such a vision to look because he’s so ridiculously cute?**

“I like it.” Wanda admitted. It was definitely a challenge to her pride to agree with  _anything_ Tony did, but she could see why he called Vince that. It definitely fit. “Do you mind if I call you that?”

“Not at all.” Vince didn’t even hesitate to answer.

“The other employees call you Robot Jesus.” Wanda decided to inform him then, since they were talking about nicknames.

He raised an almost nonexistent eyebrow. “Robot Jesus?”

“They think you look like some cross between a robot and Jesus.” she told him.

“I have been called robotic my whole life.” said Vince, and Wanda had brief second of sympathy.

“People think I look like a witch.”

“I might have to agree with some of them…” Vince chuckled.

“Hey!” But she giggled, too.

“I’m not sure how I look like Christ though.” He cocked his head. “Do they know that historically Christ would have been from the middle east and wouldn’t have the complexion of a caucasian?”

Wanda laughed, and he laughed with her before silence over took the room again.

Then she started to giggle again. “It’s almost too long. Your nickname.”

“My nickname?”

“Yes, I think it should be something shorter.”

“Are you suggesting a nickname for my nickname?” Now he was the one who was laughing, and she joined him. Gone was the awkward atmosphere. Gone was the formality. Something else was happening now.

Wanda nodded. “What about Vizh?”

**IT’S THE NICKNAME YOU GUYS,** **_THE_ ** **NICKNAME!**

“Vizh… You can call me that.” said Vince.

**I’m pretty sure she could call you anything, Vision, and you’d still look at her with those big puppy dog eyes.**

“Now can I ask you something, in the spirit of our new found honesty?” he asked.  

“Sure, Vizh.” The new nickname rolled off her tongue with ease, as if it was something she was always meant to say.

“You told me on that night a few weeks ago that Pietro was your only brother, but then today these other men come with you.” Again his voice was sincere, no hint of judgement or rejection.

“Are you jealous, Vizh?” the teasing words just slipped out, like earlier, and again she regretted the second she heard them. His face burned red, almost maroon.  _Can you go one minute without embarrassing the man?_ “I’m teasing you, Vizh. Steve and Scott they’re… they’re my foster brothers.” Wanda exhaled. In the back of her mind she had always known Vince would know her secrets, that eventually he’d find out about the medication and her time in the foster system, about her relationship to Tony. She just hadn’t wanted today to be that day.

_Then what did you want this day to be?_

“I didn’t know you were a child of the system.” Vince whispered. It was like he was unsure of what to do with this new information. “During our years in high school I was under the impression...I-I want to take back what I said, please don’t feel pressured to tell me anything, Wanda.”

“It’s alright.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I didn’t tell you in high school because I was mostly just embarrassed. I didn’t want you to think anything differently of me, or for anything to change between us. Clint, my foster father, found Pietro and I running around Sokovia without any supervision back when we were fourteen. He worked out something to take us to the states. You were actually going to find out, the night of prom- I thought you were coming to pick me up but…”

“Wanda, I-” Vince stuttered, his head lowered, “I know I can’t take back that night, but if I could-”

“Vizh, we did this at the pool, remember?” Wanda smiled at him, “you don’t have to feel guilty about that anymore.”

“Oh.”

Wanda then swallowed. Here came the hardest part. “There’s something else you should know about my foster family. I have three other foster brothers besides Steve and Scott and I have one sister. I should have told you this sooner, but one of my foster brothers is-”

They were interrupted by the door opening once more, and Dr. Strange followed by Nurse Sharon entered the room.

**God** **_damn it_  ** **, Sharon and Stephen! Everytime we start to get somewhere you guys come running in and ruining it!**

“Here, I’ll turn it on again,” Sharon was saying to Strange, who was pinching his nose. Both Vince and Wanda were staring at the two, the tension and worry once again in the room now that they’d returned. It was then she reminded she still had a microphone inside her and just how uncomfortable it was making her.

They listened to the whir of the machine turning on and Vince asked Dr. Strange, “Is there something wrong?”  _Is there something we should be worried about?_ Wanda was dying to ask.

Dr. Strange shrugged and Wanda wanted to sit up and slap him. Couldn’t he see they were worried? Was this nothing to him?  _I thought you wanted it to be nothing to you,_ that same voice in her head whispered.  _Oh, shut up!_ she fired back. “I’m not sure at this point. We’ve never really had something like this happen. I’ll have to listen myself before I can come to a decision. Can you hurry, Sharon, Wong just got back from the deli with lunch.”

“Sure thing boss,” the nurse replied. That’s when they began to hear it again.

_Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum,_ that was the heartbeat at first, just like it had started before, but then the echo:  _ba-bum...pah, ba-bum..pah, ba-bum...pah._ “What do you think, Doc?” asked Sharon as Vince and Wanda held their breath.

“It doesn’t really sound problematic. You know, it could be-” Dr. Strange cut himself off with a shake of his head. He began stroking his chin. “No, it would be much stronger if it was that.”

“Was what?” Vince asked. Wanda reached for his hand again and he was right there to take it.

“Nothing, I wouldn’t worry about it. I think it’s just the machine, Sharon, this thing’s from like, the nineties.” Dr. Strange said.

“Okay, I guess you’re right about that. I’m surprised it even turned on today.” Sharon sighed and put her hands on her hips.

“It’s pretty useless. God, we need new equipment.” Dr. Strange declared. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a sandwich waiting for me.”

“So everything’s ok?” Wanda asked Sharon after Dr. Strange flaunted out of the room.

“Yeah I think so. Again, this piece of junk is older than the dinosaurs. So, I guess we should get this thing out of you.” the nurse shrugged.

“Yes,  _please._ ”

Once again Vince turned around, and Sharon took her time taking the microphone out and cleaning it before helping Wanda redress. “Keep taking your vitamins.” Wanda nodded. “And just call us if something out of the ordinary happens.” With that Sharon opened the door and led the two of them out in the lobby. Wanda thanked her before she walked off to talk with Steve once again. Wanda turned to Vince. Everyone was staring at them now that they had entered.

“Thank you for coming today, Vizh,” she whispered to him.

 “Thank you,” he whispered back, “for letting me be here, Wanda.” This time when he smiled at her and the butterflies in her stomach made a fuss, she wondered if wasn’t because she was pregnant.

“I’ll see you soon?” Wanda made no attempt to mask the hope from her voice.

Vince nodded. “I promise I’ll be easier to locate.”

“Vision!” Tony called out, shocking Wanda and Vince out of their moment. He began to walk away from her, and Wanda looked down at the tile floor. She still was in no mood to deal with Tony. But if she had looked up in that moment, she would have seen Vince looking back at her. Wanda began to think about that second when they were back and the room, and she was going to tell Vince the truth about her and Tony when someone called her name.

“Hey!” Laura was walking up to her. Wanda took her hands. “How’d it go?”

“It went… it went well.” Her answer was honest.

Laura raised an eyebrow. “Really? You guys were in there kind of a long time, I was starting to get worried.”

“Everything’s okay. We’re...We’re okay.” Wanda said.

“So what happens now?” her foster mother asked.

“I schedule an appointment with Sharon and then I pester Pietro into giving me a ride to work.” Wanda looked up to find Pietro sitting on the floor braiding Cassie’s hair.  _What a dork,_ she thought, a smile on her face.

“You’re working tonight? God, that job just never gives you a break, does it?”

“Carol was nice enough to trade shifts with me so I could go to the doctor’s but it does mean I have to work for her tonight.” explained Wanda.

Laura’s face suddenly lit up and she reached back into her pocket before pulling out a slip of paper and handing it to Wanda. “I got something from Nat that I think I should give to you.”

Wanda opened the slip and studied it.  _347-616-2015_. “Is this a phone number? Whose?”

Laura winked before looking over to where Vince stood surrounded by Tony and his other friends. Following her line of sight, Wanda looked up to find him looking at her, a soft look on his handsome-  _handsome, did I just call him handsome? Wanda, get ahold of yourself-_ face. “Oh, you know.” Laura hummed, “just a certain someone’s.”

 

_

**We did it you guys, Wanda and Vizh (he’s Vizh now that’s official) actually talked. Now where getting somewhere! But I did mention we would go back to** **_The Maria._ ** **There’s another new character waiting for us there and she (like everyone else around here) has a secret…**

Lorna had one job when it came to working at  _The Maria_ : get in, talk to Wanda, and get out. Don’t be emotional. Let  _him_ do the rest.

**Oooh, a mysterious male counterpart. I wonder who that could be…**

The plan was working so far; the  _real_ manager of the hotel didn’t even have time to interview her and another employee who didn’t really look like she cared about anything, conducted her interview instead.

And when she introduced herself as Raven Darkholme, Lorna was ecstatic. He would be so happy now that he found Wanda  _and_ Raven, a hidden perk that might increase his trust and pride in Lorna. Another perk was that Raven never asked about where she was from, her age, or about the blatant falsification of her resume.

Her interview had only been yesterday and she hadn’t seen much of the hotel, just the outside pool area where Raven asked her questions. At the end of it (only fifteen minutes, this was going very smoothly so far) Raven handed Lorna her two waitress uniforms she said in her size, two blouses and a pencil skirt, and instructed her that she was to alternate outfits every other day as well as buy a dress (With what money? Lorna wondered) in similar fashion and hue as the uniforms for special occasions the hotel would host in the future. Lorna walked out of the encounter trying not to gag at the uniform’s colors. Yeah, she liked black (who didn’t?) but red? Red was such a dumb color, and it did  _not_ go with black-

**Damn Lorna.**

-God, she was going to come out looking like some sort of spider, or a halloween witch. She was supposed to come back tomorrow around 2:00 and would work until 5:30. Raven found her today in the lobby, awkwardly trying to balance in the only pair of heels she owned (stolen from her mother when she ran away) showed her how to clock in, introduced her to a couple of employees that were hanging out by the restaurant's bar, and then completely abandoned her there.

_There goes talking to Raven._ Lorna tried not to act disappointed, reminding herself he would be proud of her just for finding Raven, and once she found Wanda, she could be a part of his family for real.

An hour and half had passed sitting by  _The Maria’s_ most boring losers. Honestly, she didn’t even remember their names, not that they had even introduced themselves to her. They just side eyed her with angry or suspicious stares. Lorna did know that the annoying blonde was Carol.  _Avoid Carol_ , she made a mental note. Something about the other woman made her nervous and irritable. Yeah, lots of things made her nervous and irritable, but they were almost always terrible things. But the other employees just sat there, talking about nothing or staring blankly at their phones, and it was boring  _the hell_ out of Lorna. She knew when she agreed to do this for him that she would have to be patient (not one of her strong suits). He reminded her day after day that it would take time, but this was  _way_ too long.

Quitting came to mind when her phone died in her hands, quitting and running away like she always did. She figured she had enough money for a subway fare or-  _No_ , Lorna stopped that thought.  _We’re not quitting this time._   _I’m doing this for him, and for me. I deserve a family too._

But like all the rest of her life, she had to earn the things others were given freely.

She tried not to be to upset that Wanda wasn’t even here, even though the faster she gained Wanda’s trust the faster she could be out of these heels and back in her combat boots. After all, the boring losers told her more about Wanda than she even thought she could get out of the woman herself. At least on the first day.

“ _W was accidentally inseminated by a gynecologist and is now eight weeks pregnant.”_ texted Lorna immediately. But so far, no reply. She told herself that she had no reason to panic. Maybe he was just processing what Lorna told him. It was really weird, almost out of those telenovelas her aunt used to make her watch.

“Ugh!” Carol whined from where she lay on the counter (they  _all_ whined) “Where the  _hell_ is Maximoff? She was supposed to be here forever ago!”

“Wanda’s only late by five minutes. Give her a break, the woman’s pregnant,” one of the other waitresses, not the one who was dumber than all of them combined and looked like a bug, said.

“Hey, Wanda told us not to treat her any differently, remember?” whined Carol. “I was supposed to go visit Teddy tonight and if I get there late Millie will have put him to bed already!”

“Who’s Teddy?” Lorna asked.  _And what is Teddy?_ But everyone ignored her.

“Hello everyone.” they all perked upon hearing a voice behind them.  _Was it British?_ Lorna thought as she turned around. The man who’d spoken came up to bar, giving Lorna a chance to study him.

“Yo! Robot Jesus!” the bartender shouted, a look of surprise on his usually smug face. “Haven’t seen you in like three weeks., we were starting to get kinda worried.”

“I have been busy.” Robot Jesus said to the bartender. “You know you can call me something other than Robot Jesus.”

“Oh, sorry, we just give everyone nicknames. We’ll just call you Mr. Anderson-”

“My friends call me Vision,” Robot Jesus told the bartender.

“Vision, okay.”

"Does this mean we're friends?"

“It’s good to see you all. Peter, how’s school going?”

“Pretty good, Mr. Anderson, thanks for asking! Aced that physics test I was telling you about,” the little twerp who called her out on her age told the man, who then congratulated him.

The man turned around to find her sitting on the floor. “Oh, you must be our new hire. I’m Vincent Anderson, I’m the manager of the hotel. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lorna Dane.” She stood up and took the man’s hand. “Raven just hired me.”

“I received word. I hope your first weeks go well, Lorna. Now if you will excuse me…” he turned back around before bidding them all goodnight. The whole thing made Lorna kind of sick. That was her boss? This job was going to be a piece of cake.

“I’m telling you it’s him.” Carol was saying to the bartender, who rolled his eyes.

“What, worried you’re gonna lose your thirty bucks, Danvers?” he asked her.

“You know I’m right Quill.” His name was Quill? Now all Lorna could think of was a porcupine. “And I’m gonna get all that money, including Drax’s a hundred bucks and I’m gonna spend it on a back massage!”

“What money?” Another voice interrupted them, this time sounding almost Russian. Definitely Eastern Europe. Bingo! Lorna whirled around. “And how does Drax have a hundred dollars?”

Finally Wanda Maximoff was standing in front her in that stupid black and red uniform.  _How did it look so good on her?_ The woman they’d been looking everywhere for. The woman who Lorna envied with all of her heart. The woman who had everything she didn’t.

“They came in together!” Carol told Porcupine in a whisper barely loud enough for Lorna to make out.

“No they didn’t!” Porcupine hissed back. “She’s like a minute behind him!”

“They both looked very happy,” the bug lady whispered to both of them.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Porcupine’s girlfriend shook her head.

“Thank you Gamora!”

“Yes it means something! When was the last time you saw either of those two happy in the last three weeks?” Carol’s whisper shut everybody up, and they all looked at Wanda, who was taking a seat at the end of the bar.

“What are you all whispering about?” asked Wanda as she took off her black heels.

“Nothing!” the twerp full on shouted. Lorna rolled her eyes at the amount of sweat on that kid’s forehead. Man, he was bad at lying.

Wanda rolled her eyes, and Lorna twitched, her envy rising in her again.  _Of course she’s gorgeous. She gets everything._

“Thanks for finally showing up, Maximoff.” Carol’s voice broke Lorna out of her emotions. “How was the doctor?”

“It was… it was good.” Wanda bit her lip, trying to conceal a small smile. Lorna wanted to puke.

“How’s baby daddy?” asked Porcupine. All of them were eyeing her for some sort of hint on the father for their childish bet. How hard for up cash were these people?

**Lorna, is this your first time working a minimum wage job?**

“Sorry to disappoint,” Wanda sighed, “but he wasn’t there.”

All of them, except Lorna of course, let out an “awh.” “Maybe it is a donor.” she heard the twerp whisper to Porcupine’s girlfriend. Porcupine’s girlfriend just shrugged.

Lorna narrowed her eyes on Wanda.  _She’s lying_. It wasn’t obvious, there wasn’t anything in the tone of her voice or her body language. Lorna couldn’t explain how she knew, she just did. Plenty of people lied to her before, and now she just expected it.

One thought struck her, and she knew Carol was thinking it too,  _Where was Mr. Anderson then all this time?_

“Well thanks for nothing, baby daddy.” Carol said to Wanda but winked at Quill.

“Maximoff, when are we gonna meet this guy?” asked Porcupine.

“Why do you  _want_ to meet him?” Wanda asked him, making an annoyed face. Lorna swallowed her jealousy.  _He_ made that face too. It was a knife in Lorna’s back that they looked so much alike, when he told Lorna there was no resemblance between the two of them.

Porcupine and the others just looked at her like it was obvious. “Because you getting knocked up accidentally by some stranger’s sperm is the most interesting thing that’s happened around here in like forever!”

“ _Ahem_ ,” the not bug waitress coughed.

“My bad. Most interesting thing since Karen found that dead guy.”

_“Ahem!”_ This time it was the bride of porcupine.

“Sorry. Murder victim.” Porcupine tried again.

“Hey Carol, weren’t you going to go see Teddy?” The twerp turned the woman sitting on the bar who then suddenly jumped off and was pulling her keys out of her pocket.

“Oh shit I was! Bye everybody! Bye Maximoff!”

“Give Teddy kisses for me!” Wanda shouted. Again, what the hell was Teddy?

“You better text me about the appointment later! I want all the details!” the waitresses yelled back as she ran through the restaurant until she was out of sight. Lorna breathed a sigh of relief.  _Thank God, she’s gone!_

_“_ That woman thinks she is going to win,” the weird janitor was saying, shaking his head. “She’ll never win. It is definitely a Property Brother.”

“What?” exclaimed Wanda. Weird janitor refused to look at her.

“Oh Aunt May just texted me that she’s here. I gotta go find Wade, she’s taking him home too.” Twerp stood up.

“Aunt May is a goddamn saint,” Not Bug waitress muttered and waved goodbye. Now that twerp was gone that left Wanda, Porcupine, Bride of Porcupine, Not Bug lady, Bug lady, and Weird Janitor.

**Can you imagine if I just kept narrating the story but I used names Lorna came up with?**

Not Bug Lady was the next to go. “Do think Mr. Anderson will mind if I ditch? Jean and I are still binging Game of Thrones and I don’t know how much more of this  _very exciting shift_ I can take! Plus I’m the one paying for HBO.” The others agreed that she didn’t need to stick around, so she bailed too.

Then the Porcupines began to whisper about sneaking out to go hang by the hot tub since obviously no one was coming. Bride of Porcupine was worried Robot Jesus would come back and see they weren’t attending the restaurant but Wanda told them to go and that she would cover for them. Again Lorna narrowed her eyes. At the mention of their boss she’d gotten this shy smile on her face.  _What the hell was that about?_ wondered Lorna

“Mantis,” the Weird Janitor turned to Bug Lady as soon as the Porcupines were gone, “we should sneak out by the pool and take pictures of them while they embrace. We should find Rocket and Groot as well.”

“Oh, I can take pictures of them on my ChatSnap!”

“It’s Snap _Cam_ , Mantis.” the weird janitor “corrected.”

“Right, right!”

And then there were two.

Lorna took a seat on the barstool next to Wanda. “You’re not gonna go with them?” she asked.

“I’m not really in the mood to watch Quill and Gamora make out while Mantis and the others take photos.” sighed Wanda. “I wish they didn’t have to make out near the hot tub, it’d be nice to stick my feet in. They’re swollen again.” The waitress laughed at the face Lorna made. “It’s a pregnancy thing, sorry.”

“It’s cool.” Lorna shrugged. It was crucial she not let her jealousy take a hold of her right now. So much was riding on this one moment. “They told me how you got inseminated. It’s crazy.”

Wanda chuckled. “You’re telling me.”

Then came an awkward silence that made Lorna want to scream. Maybe he shouldn’t have picked her to do this, she didn’t know what she was doing. She had  _no idea_ what to talk about with Wanda. All she wanted to do was yell and scream about how much she hated her. She was going to fail, she was going to break because she was weak like he said she was, he would throw her out-

“I like your makeup.” Wanda said all of a sudden. Lorna looked up. That came out of left field.

“Uh, thank you?” Lorna tried.

“It’s really good for someone so young.” Wanda’s voice was kind, Lorna finally realized, that was what was throwing her off. For the months they’d been planning this, Lorna had pictured Wanda as cruel and shrill, kind of like her mom. Now she realized that she’d been projecting. But that didn’t make her like Wanda.

“I’m twenty one.” stuttered Lorna.  

Wanda nodded, disbelief in her voice.  “Okay.”

_If you don’t try harder you’ll ruin this! And then you’ll have nowhere to go and no one left!_ She wasn’t sure if it was her own voice in her speaking to her or his.  _Go with the makeup thing, you have that in common._ “My mom used to do her makeup this way, and she taught me.”

“That makes sense. It’s totally perfect though, I’m almost jealous.”  _You’re jealous?_ “I have to watch youtube tutorials.” laughed Wanda. “And even still I look like a racoon sometimes.”

“I don’t think you look like a raccoon.” Lorna muttered. That was one of the biggest problems. Wanda wasn’t ugly, wasn’t that cartoon witch she’d been picturing in her head for weeks. Wanda was beautiful in a way that Lorna wasn’t, in a way she would never be.

“Thanks.” Wanda chirped. “You’ll have to teach me some of your tricks sometime though.”

Lorna perked up at this.  _This is your shot kid don’t mess it up._ “We have time right now…”

They must have talked for about an hour about makeup and makeup only. They compared brushes and different palettes, bitched about the prices at Sephora and how broke they were and could never shop there, and laughed about how hard eyeliner was to master. Wanda gave her the names of makeup artists on youtube and Lorna promised to look them up. It did actually interest her. Never once was Wanda mean or aggressive with her and that left Lorna feeling strange. Wanda was kind and patient, she listened to Lorna, a first for her, and-

_Is this what it’s like to have a sister?_

The top of the bar where Lorna was laying her hand vibrated, and Wanda glanced down at her phone before sighing, “Oh, Pietro.”

Hearing Wanda speak like this snapped Lorna out of it.  _You are here to do a job_ , his voice said to her,  _don’t get distracted. Don’t get attached._

Pietro Maximoff. The secondary objective. The one she’d forgotten about; he didn’t care about Pietro the way he cared about Wanda. “Sorry, it’s my twin. He is being annoying right now.”

“You have a twin?” Lorna asked, trying to act as if she didn’t already know this.

Wanda nodded as she was typing an answer. “Yeah, Pietro. He’s mad at me right now.”

“What for?”

“He doesn’t approve of the child’s father.” Wanda gestured to her torso even though nothing about her gave away that she was pregnant.  

_Why would Pietro not approve of Robot Jesus?_ Lorna had already forgotten his name.  _If Robot Jesus is even the father…_

“It’s not like you got to choose.” she pointed out. Wanda bit her lip and looked at her phone again.

“I know but I was keeping a secret that I shouldn’t have and now he’s angry that I didn’t tell him. He found out earlier today.” explained the other woman.

“So I’m guessing that baby daddy was actually at the appointment today, wasn’t he?” Wanda just stared at her with wide green eyes, and then after a few seconds she nodded. “So why lie to everybody, why lie to all of us? Why keep more secrets?”

**Yeah Lorna, why keep secrets?**

“This is complicated,” Wanda started, an edge her voice, “I wasn’t even planning on having this baby in the first place and now that I am everything’s changed. Everyone has an opinion, at home, at work, everywhere I go someone thinks  _something_ I’m doing is wrong and I know they think they are helping but I feel like I’m drowning! I’m already at my most vulnerable right now and I just-” Wanda was talking so fast, her accent getting thicker and thicker until Lorna couldn’t understand her, when she realized Wanda was crying. Lorna looked around, suddenly unsure of what to do or say. He hadn’t prepared her for this. “I’m so sorry,” Wanda sniffed, “I’ve been crying a lot lately, it’s another annoying pregnancy thing.”

“Uh, it’s okay.” Lorna told her. From their makeup conversation earlier Lorna understood how Wanda could be full on sobbing and still look perfect. If she wasn’t having a breakdown in front of her Lorna would have hated her for it. “Is that why you don’t tell people here who the father is?” Wanda nodded. Her next move was a complete long shot but she thought it was a risk worth taking. “You can tell me, you know. I won’t tell anyone.”

“You’re sweet, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Wanda shook her head and Lorna screamed internally and wanted to bang her head on the bar.  _So! Freaking! Close!_ “Besides, I think everybody would be upset if they found out I told the new girl first.”

The new girl. Lorna felt a pang in her heart and instantly she chastised herself.  _No emotions. Just do the job._ She was nothing to Wanda, could never be, and she  _wanted_ it that way. “But you are going to tell everyone else?” Maybe soon, hopefully? He’d want that information as soon as she could get it.

“Eventually.” she sighed.

“But on your own terms.” Lorna added, trying to make Wanda feel better. Maintain the lie, maintain the lie. Don’t get emotional. Don’t get attached.

“On my own terms.” laughed Wanda, but then she made a face that made Lorna’s stomach churn. “How old are you really, Lorna Dane? Because I know that twenty one years old is far from the truth.”

Ice flooded Lorna’s veins. There’s no way… Could she see through  _all_ of it? Because if she could Lorna didn’t stand a chance, oh God, what was she going to say to him? What would _he_ say to her? Oh God, oh God, oh God-  _Get a HOLD of yourself, girl!_ She took a deep breathe and plastered on a fake smile, trying to laugh as she replied, “Eighteen. But you have to be twenty one to be a waitress here.”  

“I understand, ” Wanda winked at her with her perfect eyeshadow, “ but you should work on your lying skills.”

_And so should you._ But Lorna didn’t say that.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” Now it was Lorna who was the vulnerable one, and she absolutely  _loathed_ it. It was so much easier just letting Wanda go babbling off about her problems.  

“I won’t tell your secret if you won’t tell mine.” Wanda promised her. “But if I see you buying a drink from Quill I’m gonna stop you.”

“Okay.” Lorna rolled hers eye, but this time even she had to admit she was smiling. Then her phone buzzed in her pocket, and the smile was gone in an instant. She pulled it out to find she had two new messages.

The first one at 5:29 pm.  _“Interesting development. Nothing that can’t be worked around.”_

The next one was 5:37 pm, three minutes ago. “ _That last text meant I am here. Hurry. Now.”_

“I have to go.” Lorna shoved the phone in her pocket.

“Oh, okay.” Wanda looked a little hurt.

 “My shift just ended and my ride's here.”  _This is taking more time!_ Lorna yelled at herself. But still she couldn’t bring herself to run just yet. She promised him she would do this right, that she could maintain the lie. “Are you going to be okay by yourself?”

“Oh yeah. I think I’ll just walk around. I’m here until eight, so...” Wanda replied.

**Hmm…**

“It was nice meeting you, Lorna.” The other woman waved as Lorna began to speed walk away from her.

“It was nice meeting you too, Wanda.” Just like Carol had run off from Wanda earlier in the afternoon, Lorna ran too. By the time she made it to the empty lobby, the sound of her heels echoing off the extravagant stone floor, her worst fears had been realized. The phone was ringing.

Out of breath and dizzy with panic, Lorna answered the phone. “Hi, I promise I’m coming. Yes I know it’s after 5:30 but I wasn’t watching the time- I know, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Yes, I talked to her. I think we’re off to a good start, Erik- sorry, please don’t be mad. Sometimes I just to forget to call you dad.”

 

-

 

[ **Song that Plays at the End of the “Episode”: Heart Skips a Beat- Lenka** ](Next%20time%20on%20Miracles,%20Etc%E2%80%A6%20Jessica%20Jones%20finds%20something%20that%20just%20might%20save%20Karen%20while%20Wanda%20and%20Vizh%20get%20to%20know%20each%20other%20just%20a%20little%20bit%20better.%20Meanwhile%20Tony%20Stark%20seeks%20out%20two%20dishwashers%20in%20what%20might%20be%20the%20team%20up%20of%20the%20century%E2%80%A6%20%20Okay,%20so%20once%20again%20thank%20you%20to%20my%20amazing%20beta%20and%20to%20the%20amazing%20scarlet%20vision%20fandom%20and%20to%20everyone%20I%20begged%20to%20read%20this.%20You%20guys%20are%20the%20real%20heros.%20%20A%20couple%20of%20disclaimers%201\)%20I%E2%80%99m%20a%20childless%20nineteen%20year%20old,%20and%20I%E2%80%99ve%20been%20to%20plenty%20of%20doctors,%20but%20I%E2%80%99ve%20never%20been%20to%20an%20obstetrician,%20so%20I%20really%20have%20no%20idea%20how%20they%20really%20conduct%20the%20appointments.%20I%E2%80%99ve%20done%20a%20ton%20of%20research%20in%20preparing%20for%20this%20board%20\(I%20actually%20did%20read%20%E2%80%9CWhat%20to%20Expect%20When%20You%E2%80%99re%20Expecting-%20and%20it%20is%20very%20vague-%20about%20two%20years%20ago\)%20and%20I%20took%20a%20couple%20of%20child%20development%20classes%20in%20high%20school%20\(that%E2%80%99s%20actually%20how%20I%20learned%20you%20get%20a%20microphone%20stuffed%20up%20your%20vagina%20instead%20of%20an%20ultrasound,%20according%20to%20my%20teacher%20they%20do%20it%20wrong%20all%20the%20time%20on%20TV%20and%20you%20see%20it%20as%20an%20ultrasound,%20they%20actually%20did%20it%20wrong%20on%20Jane%20the%20Virgin\)%20so%20this%20is%20my%20closest%20guesstimation%20of%20what%20happens-%20and%20that%20goes%20for%20everything%20about%20Wanda%E2%80%99s%20pregnancy.%202\)%20speaking%20on%20Jane%20the%20Virgin,%20I%E2%80%99m%20sooooooo%20behind.%20The%20plot%20deverges%20in%20miracles%20significantly%20but%20I%E2%80%99m%20trying%20once%20again%20to%20catch%20up.%203\)%20About%20Carol%20and%20Lorna%E2%80%99s%20characerization,%20those%20are%20guesses%20too.%20i%20know%20that%20Lorna%20is%20a%20character%20in%20the%20new%20show%20The%20Gifted%20but%20I%20haven%E2%80%99t%20watched%20it%20yet,%20and%20without%20a%20movie%20for%20Captain%20Marvel%20yet%20I%E2%80%99ve%20had%20to%20go%20off%20research%20of%20the%20characters.%20I%20apologize%20if%20it%E2%80%99s%20way%20out%20of%20left%20field.%20I%20promise%20I%E2%80%99ll%20keep%20working.%20%20thank%20you%20thank%20you%20thank%20you%20thank%20you%20thank%20you%20for%20reading.%20I%20love%20you%20so%20much.%20please%20tell%20me%20what%20you%20think!!%20it%20would%20make%20me%20so%20happy!)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Miracles, Etc… Jessica Jones finds something that just might save Karen while Wanda and Vizh get to know each other just a little bit better. Meanwhile Tony Stark seeks out two dishwashers in what might be the team up of the century…
> 
> Okay, so once again thank you to my amazing beta and to the amazing scarlet vision fandom and to everyone I begged to read this. You guys are the real heros.
> 
> A couple of disclaimers 1) I’m a childless nineteen year old, and I’ve been to plenty of doctors, but I’ve never been to an obstetrician, so I really have no idea how they really conduct the appointments. I’ve done a ton of research in preparing for this board (I actually did read “What to Expect When You’re Expecting- and it is very vague- about two years ago) and I took a couple of child development classes in high school (that’s actually how I learned you get a microphone stuffed up your vagina instead of an ultrasound, according to my teacher they do it wrong all the time on TV and you see it as an ultrasound, they actually did it wrong on Jane the Virgin) so this is my closest guesstimation of what happens- and that goes for everything about Wanda’s pregnancy. 2) speaking on Jane the Virgin, I’m sooooooo behind. The plot deverges in miracles significantly but I’m trying once again to catch up. 3) About Carol and Lorna’s characerization, those are guesses too. i know that Lorna is a character in the new show The Gifted but I haven’t watched it yet, and without a movie for Captain Marvel yet I’ve had to go off research of the characters. I apologize if it’s way out of left field. I promise I’ll keep working.
> 
> thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you for reading. I love you so much. please tell me what you think!! it would make me so happy!

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on tumblr @heliophobicsoul


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